The Deconstruction of Sam Winchester
by Floofeymarshmallow
Summary: Part One: Control Series! Sam Winchester is not an average boy. After succumbing to the mental disease that is anorexia, the fourteen year old is living in and out of hospitals and forced to come to the realization that he might have a problem. Updates every Sunday!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Sam breathed out a sigh of relief as the doctors walked past his bedroom, barely doing anything but flickering a flashlight to make sure he was in bed. He hated the early mornings, as the nurses always did an examination on him. He was so glad it wasn't time for that just yet.

He was only fourteen, yet his father, John, had decided that he needed to be placed in this hospital. Sam still didn't understand it all the way. He didn't belong in a place like this. He would have thought Dean, his eighteen year old brother, would help him, but he encouraged it.

Suddenly the lights lit up in Sam's room. "It's time for your examination, Sam," the nurse said. Sam groaned and she only sighed. "The sooner we get this done the sooner you can have breakfast."

 _Great,_ Sam thought to himself, _because I want breakfast._ He lifted himself out of bed, wiggling his toes through his socks as they felt the cold of the tiled floor. The hospital regulated socks hardly helped with warmth.

Sam walked to the nurses station where there were already several other patients sitting in chairs, either waiting for their turns to be examined or waiting for breakfast, not being allowed to go until everyone was done with their examinations.

"Come on in, Sam," the nurse said. Sam walked inside the room where they shut the door. "Can you step on the scale for me?" He did as she said, the scale giving his weight: 84 pounds. "Okay, now I'm going to need you to take your shirt and sweat pants off for me."

Sam sighed. Since he arrived this was what the routine was of every morning. He removed his clothing so the nurse could see there were no marks on his body. Her eyes lingered on his stomach, causing him to hide himself.

"It's alright, Sam," the nurse said with a kind smile. "Can I see your fingernails?" He handed them to her. "They're a little blue; did you eat dinner last night?"

"I ate a little," Sam said. "I wanted to see my brother."

"Well, visiting hours are tonight," the nurse told him. "You can call him and see if he'll come tonight as soon as we're done with your examination."

"What time is it?" Sam asked. Usually the examinations happened fairly early in the morning, and he worried that Dean wouldn't be up just yet.

"It is six thirty," the nurse answered. "Don't worry, you can always call later."

"Are we done here?" Sam asked.

"Just one more question; do you feel safe?" Sam hesitated. He never felt safe anywhere without Dean, yet he worried if he mentioned that, they wouldn't let him see his brother.

"Yes."

* * *

Sam waited for the phone ringing to end. He had been waiting for three rings now. Four. Five. Finally, at the last second, an answer. He sighed in relief.

 _"Sammy?"_ Dean asked on the other line. He seemed worried that something had happened. It was reasonable enough.

"Hey, Dean," Sam responded. "Um..." he trailed off for a moment.

 _"Is everything alright? Are you hurt?"_ Dean asked in a tone that could only match a mother's worried one.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam answered. "I just wanted to know if you would come to the hospital today. Visiting hours are open and..." he trailed off once again.

 _"Of course I will,"_ Dean said. _"I wouldn't miss seeing you for the world. Neither would dad for that matter."_

"Yeah," Sam said. "I miss you a lot."

 _"I miss you too, buddy."_ Dean laughed a bit. _"What time you want us over there?"_

"As soon as possible," Sam answered. "Please."

 _"You don't have to beg, kiddo. I'll always be here for you."_

 _I hope so._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"How have you been, Sammy?" Dean asked when he sat down at the visitors table in front of his little brother. John had also come along, though was standing back and allowing the brothers to have some time together before he intervened.

"I've been okay," Sam answered. "I gained a little bit of weight."

"That's awesome," Dean said with a big grin. "You need the weight, you're starting to finally grow."

"I'm still pretty short," Sam commented.

"Well, not for long," Dean told him. "You're gonna sprout like a fucking tree, and you'll be taller than me - I promise." Sam smiled genuinely for the first time since he had arrived.

"I miss you, Dee."

"I know, kiddo," Dean said. "But it's okay. Once you gain some more weight and keep going through your therapy, then you can come home."

"That's what you say every time you visit me," Sam said.

"You've only been here a month," Dean told him. "You've still got some recovery to go through." John finally walked closer and sat beside Dean, also facing Sam.

"Hey, Sammy," John greeted. Sam forced a small smile at his father.

"Hi, dad..." he trailed off.

"The doctor told me you gained four pounds," John said. "Said you can quit the feeding tube and IV time if you get up to 100." Sam grimaced. "Sam, you know you're too skinny."

"I know that's what you guys keep telling me," Sam said.

"Sammy, you're skinny, dude," Dean said. "You're eighty pounds..."

"I'm eighty four now," Sam told them. "I gained weight, I'm working on my problems."

"We know you are, Sammy," John said. "And we'll continue to support you as you keep gaining weight until you're normal."

"Uh huh." Sam didn't speak again, so John sighed.

"If you're gonna be that way, I'll leave." John stood, walking away as Sam did nothing to stop him. Dean sighed in an identical fashion to John's.

"Sammy..." the older brother trailed of. He hated it when Sam and John fought.

"Dean, it's really hard to do this," Sam said. "It's really hard to watch myself gain weight when I can't do it..."

"Listen to me," Dean said. He waited for Sam to make eye contact. "You can do this. You can get better, because if you don't, you're going to die."

"Dean-"

"Listen," Dean interrupted. "You can get through this. You're going to be a healthy kid again. You're gonna go play soccer with your friends, and I'm gonna get to watch you graduate from high school and college, understand?"

Sam nodded; silent.

"I am scared for you, Sammy," Dean admitted. "You're what keeps this family together."

"That's not true," Sam said. "That's what you do. You stop dad and me from fighting all the time."

"No, you don't understand." Dean laughed dryly. "After mom died, you were what held us together. Dad nearly fell apart. You were the last gift mom gave to him. So he wants to protect you."

"You want to protect me too," Sam mentioned.

"Damn right I do," Dean confirmed. "But I can't protect you from this disease. Only you can do that, buddy."

"But how do I do that when I can't even get myself to eat?" Sam asked. His big brother always knew whatever he needed to do.

"Honestly, Sammy?" Dean sighed. "I don't know."

* * *

"Here's lunch, Sam," the nurse said, placing a plate of food in front of the fourteen year old boy. "Try to eat as much as you can before your time is up." She then walked away.

Sam sighed, picking at the food at first. There were several rules to meal time, and that was that it ended at the same time for everyone, no matter if you were done or not, and you couldn't talk about weight, calories, or go to the bathroom for obvious reasons. Bathroom breaks were usually monitored anyway.

After picking at his food for a solid three minutes, Sam began to cut it up into small pieces. The hospital didn't allow them to have knives, but they were allowed to have forks, which was good enough. Sam took small nibbles of the food and drank the entire glass of water in front of him.

The food hall always made their trays containing all the food groups and two drinks. Sam hardly ever ate the whole thing. He also knew from experience that the nurses wouldn't force him to eat unless his life was in danger.

"You should eat," said the girl sitting in front of Sam. While the youngest Winchester was an idiot, he wasn't stupid, and could clearly see that the other patients were girls. The doctors had assured him boys had this condition as well, though explained that since there was more of a negative stigma around boys having it, they wouldn't come in if they wanted the help, and people didn't often notice. Sam was the 'lucky' match that had his family notice his behaviors.

At first, they didn't notice his eating. Sam could get to bed with only two bites in him from the entire day and no one would notice a thing out of the ordinary. Before he was like this, he would eat cookies, candy, pizza, and lots of burgers; just like his big brother. Though, when the illness had begun to rear its ugly head into Sam's life, his enjoyment for food slipped away from him as the weight did off of his skin. Suddenly Sam went from being a healthy 120 at his five foot frame to an unhealthy 100 and finally, he hit his goal weight, 80 pounds.

Sam was so proud of himself for getting to his goal weight, and had even wrote it down in one of his notebooks for school. He kept track of all his weight loss in the back of it; since it was an English book, he hardly ever used it.

One day, Sam had fainted during gym class and was rushed to the nurse's office. It was revealed there that he was dangerously underweight. At first, the principal was contacted and thought the Winchester boys were both being abused and starved by their father. Eventually Sam's disorder came out after an emergency hospital visit. Anorexia Nervosa.

Sam was committed into the hospital and at first had been fed through a tube, though had finally graduated from it when he built up more strength. The doctors trusted him to eat on his own now. Sam wasn't sure he could.

The bell rang, announcing lunch was over. Sam was glad to get out of there with only a few nibbles of food in him and a glass of water.

Immediately after lunch, they were allowed to wander. There was a day room with all sorts of activities in it, and the group therapy room. Sam hated going there because they would often talk about things he didn't like hearing or talking about.

Sam sighed and walked to the dayroom. He liked to practice math problems so he wouldn't fall behind, and the doctors said if he didn't get up to 100 pounds soon, he would be placed in a special program that continued schooling in the hospital.

When he reached the dayroom, Sam got out his notebook from his assigned cubby and began to practice math problems. He would make them up in his head and solve them, though it seemed too easy for him. Sam finally walked over to one of the nurses at the nursing station with his notebook.

"Yes, Sam?" the nurse asked. Sam placed his notebook in front of her.

"Since you're a nurse you must be really smart..." he trailed off. "Could you...could you write a hard math problem that you know the answer to in my notebook?" he asked. The nurse blinked before smiling a little.

"I can try," she said. Taking the notebook, the nurse began to write math problems in it. She wrote four of them before sending him back to solve them.

"Thanks," Sam said. He walked back to the day room to solve them.

 **Next Update:** June 14th, 2015


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"Congratulations, Sam, you've gained five more pounds. You're officially 89 pounds. One more pound and we can talk to the doctor about you leaving," the nurse said. Glad that he had managed to gain the few pounds due to excessive water just before his weighing and little weights inside of his briefed underwear, though confused by the nurse's statement, Sam's eyebrows furrowed.

"I thought I had to be 100 pounds to leave," Sam said.

"Yes, but at 90 pounds we can start talking to the doctor to see if you're ready to get up to 100 at home," the nurse explained. "Of course, you would need regular visits with the doctors before you actually got to 100."

"Of course," Sam said. "So just one more pound?" he asked.

"Just one more pound." The nurse smiled. "Keep up the good work."

Sam was so thankful the nurses didn't check to see if he cleaned his plate. He walked out of the nurse's office and immediately phoned Dean. As always, his big brother picked up.

 _"Sammy?"_ Dean asked on the other line. His little brother was the only person who ever called him anymore.

"Yeah, Dean, guess what?" Sam asked.

 _"What?"_

"Guess."

 _"Really?"_

"Come on, it's good."

 _"You hooked up with one of the girls in there,"_ Dean guessed jokingly.

"No; the nurse said if I gain one more pound I might be able to go home!" Sam exclaimed with glee.

 _"Seriously?"_ Dean asked. _"That's awesome, dude."_

"Yeah, it is. I can't wait to be back with you and dad," Sam said.

 _"Well, hurry up and gain that one pound today; I want my baby brother safe at home with me,"_ Dean said.

"I'll try my best, Dean," Sam said. "I have to go, it's time for breakfast."

 _"Make sure you eat,"_ Dean said just before he hung up the phone. Sam walked off to eat his breakfast, and in order to gain the one pound, he forced himself to eat a whole strip of turkey bacon and drink both his water and juice.

* * *

"Sam," the doctor greeted with a smile. She was a young woman with red hair and emerald green eyes. Those eyes always reminded Sam of Dean. "You're 90 pounds, and now it's time to talk about the possibility of you going home for the remainder of your treatment. Do you feel like you could keep up your treatment without doctor supervision?"

"Yes, I really do," Sam fibbed. "I just feel great, and I know that food is vital for me to life. I'm glad I've gotten help, and I think I can manage this."

"Well, if you're that confident, I can start filling out the paperwork and we can have you out of here by morning," the woman said. She smiled and placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "You've done so great. You look better than you did when you came here at 80 pounds."

"Well, I feel better than when I did when I weighed 80 pounds," Sam fibbed once again. He felt horrible. He felt like he was blowing up like a balloon and in his head he was crying out for someone to help him.

"I'm glad we were able to help you, Sam. I'll phone your dad now and let him now, alright?" Sam nodded.

* * *

 **I apologize for this being such a short chapter! The length will pick up soon, I promise.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Dean picked Sam up from the hospital to take him home and signed all the papers to have him discharged. He was able to do so because he was eighteen.

"Welcome home, Sammy," Dean said when they finally arrived back to their house. It was a fairly large one they were both raised in. Their parents had purchased the house after they had first gotten married, and continued to keep it after their boys were born. They were thankful that they had purchased a house with three bedrooms.

Dean grabbed Sam's bag before opening his door and walking him to the house. John was waiting for him with a banner on the wall that read, _Welcome home, Sammy._

"Welcome home, Sam," John said, hugging his son quickly. "Your room is just the way you left it," he said as the hug ended. "I've been dusting your soccer trophies too..." he trailed off.

"Thanks, dad," Sam said quietly.

"Oh, man, you've got to see my new cassette tapes, Sammy," Dean said. "Come on, I'll show you." He held onto Sam's hand and walked up the stairs to his bedroom.

* * *

After checking out Dean's new stuff, Sam went to his bedroom to find that his bags were on his bed, waiting for him to unpack. He opened his drawer, discovering an odd smell coming from it. Quickly shutting the door and discovering there to be no lock on it, he began to look through it and found a moldy sandwich folded in a napkin.

When someone knocked on the door, he quickly shut it and sprayed some of the cologne Dean had given him around the room, moving back to his bag to appear as if he were continuing to go through his clothing.

"Sam?" his father's voice sounded through the door. He opened it and stared at his baby boy. He was still thin; his cheeks had filled out a bit, though his baggy clothing covered his skeletal frame. "Do you need any help unpacking?" he asked.

"I got it," Sam said. "But thanks for asking, I guess." John moved to sit on the bed beside his bags.

"I'm so glad you're home, Sammy. I missed you," John said.

"Why didn't you visit me as much as Dean did?" Sam asked. It was true. Over the two months he was there, Dean was there every visiting day, when John only showed up for the first few visits and the last visit.

"I visited you as much as I could," John said.

"It wasn't enough," Sam said. "Why didn't you visit me?" he asked again.

"I didn't want to say the wrong thing," John said.

"The wrong thing would have been better than nothing," Sam responded.

"That's not true." John sighed. "Look, Sam, I've been going to groups for parents with children with this problem. Every time I went and visited you _and_ those groups, all it did was remind me of your mother, and-"

"Wait, what about mom?" Sam asked.

"That's not important," John said. "The important thing is that you beat this. You're getting better and you're home, and I am so proud of you." He stood, kissing Sam on the forehead before walking out, leaving a stunned fourteen year old wanting to know how his mother tied with his issues.

Sam turned back to his bags and began to unpack his clothing, disposing of the moldy sandwich into the trashcan in the kitchen.

* * *

 **Happy daddy's day!**

 **Next Update: June 28th, 2015**

 **I realize that this chapter sort of reflects the "Red Band Society" show, and I do have to admit that that show was influential on this chapter when I was writing it, but this story will not follow that story-line. There will be bits that are influenced by that show, though.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"Dean?" Sam asked, as he walked into his older brother's bedroom. The door was always open, and whenever he felt like talking to Dean, his brother was there. Dean was always there for him.

"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean asked, spinning in his desk chair to see his little brother standing in the doorway of his bedroom.

It was a familiar sight to see Sam like this. They had the house forever – their parents bought it when they had first gotten married – so Sam was always standing in that same position whenever he was troubled. Of course, Dean being the elder brother and first born, he had been given the bigger room, while Sam's room was an office until he was born. It seemed that Dean's room had become Sam's room, though, and when they were little, Sam's room was strictly for bedtime – if rarely. Dean's room was for playing with Dean, for bugging him when he had friends over, whatever he wanted, and Dean liked it that way.

"Dad said something earlier about mom, and I was just curious…" Sam trailed off. He didn't even know what to say. He didn't even know exactly what he was asking for. Oh, that's right. "Why did I remind dad of mom?"

Dean's face fell and he let out a sad sigh. Their mother had always been a hard subject for Dean after having such a close relationship with her. She had died when Sam was six months old, so after not knowing her, he couldn't possibly feel like he had any bond with her. To Sam, his dad was the only parent he had, and Dean was his parent/brother hybrid.

"Sam, this is a conversation dad needs to have with you," Dean said.

"Dad's not gonna say anything, Dean!" Sam nearly shouted. He moved his position from the doorway to Dean's bed, collapsing on top of it, just as he did many times out of exasperation. Most of the time it was being annoyed with their father that set him off.

"Listen, Sam, this conversation – it's bigger than us. You're talking about something important," Dean explained.

"Please tell me, Dean. Dad won't do it, and I have to know…" Sam flashed those puppy dog eyes to his big brother and Dean caved.

Dean sighed. "Those baby blues are gonna get you in trouble one day."

"My eyes are hazel, Dean," Sam said. He knew Dean knew this, and was just using the expression.

"Yeah, I know," Dean said. He paused, placing his arms on his knees as he leaned forward. "Sammy…mom was…she was really skinny…we think she had…the same thing you had."

"…You think mom was…an anorexic?" Sam asked.

"Well…we don't know what else it could have been," Dean said. "The doctors said she died from heart failure, and when we went to clean out her things…well, she had food hidden all over the place. Moldy sandwiches she'd never eaten, candy; all sorts of food. It indicated to a larger problem."

"But-but she had to be healthy enough to have me, I mean what-how did she give birth to me without being unhealthy?" Sam asked.

"We think she forced herself to eat for your sake," Dean said.

"This explains everything…" Sam trailed off.

"No it doesn't," John said from behind them. Sam immediately turned around. Their dad must have been listening to them for some time – and Dean knew it because he was faced in that direction.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, standing from the bed and looking at their father. "Anorexia is a disease! Just like alcoholism or addiction, there's a genetic component. Why did you keep this from me? _How_ could you keep this from me?!"

"I'm not about to give you permission to be damaged," John told his son. "When you start identifying this as a disease, you'll think it's out of your control, and it is in your control. Someday, you'll understand that I wanted to protect you." The eldest Winchester moved to embrace his son when the youngest pushed him away.

"No, stay away from me, I will never understand. I hate you, dad!" Sam shouted, running to his bedroom and closing the door behind him, hoping no one would come disturb him for the rest of the night.

* * *

"Sammy, can I come in?" Dean asked, knocking on the shut door.

"Yeah," Sam asked from his bed where he sat. He had sobbed himself into a brief nap, surprised no one had gotten him or woken him up. He wiped at his tears just as Dean walked in, glad his privacy was still being respected.

Dean walked in, noticing his brother had been crying. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam answered, flashing a smile that had always been able to fool his father and the kids at school.

"No you're not," Dean said. He sat beside Sam on his little brother's bed and wrapped an arm around his skeletal frame covered by baggy clothing. "What's on your mind, squirt?"

"Dad doesn't get me," Sam said quietly. It never ceased to amaze him just how easily he could open up to Dean about these things. Well, everything about his eating. Those were the conversations he kept to himself.

"Well, you're a special kind of kid," Dean said. "You can't blame dad for not getting you if you don't give him a chance to learn."

"But he doesn't want to learn, Dean," Sam responded. "He just does what he thinks is best for me."

"Has he told you he doesn't want to learn?" Dean asked.

"…No.."

"Then give him a chance," Dean said. "He might just surprise you." Dean smirked when Sam finally let out a real smile. "That's my boy. Come on, dad wants you to help set the table for dinner."

"I'm not hungry," Sam immediately responded.

"Sam…" Dean gave off the warning tone he usually did when Sam was doing something wrong.

"…Sorry," Sam said. "Force of habit. I'll be right down."

"Thanks, kid." Dean walked out, shutting the door behind him as he always did.

Sam walked downstairs after washing his face in the bathroom he shared with Dean. He arrived into the kitchen, taking three plates, three forks, and three knives, bringing them to the table. Dean always handled the glasses. It started when Sam would constantly spill and knock over glasses, and continued as they grew older, even though Sam didn't do that anymore.

They were eating chicken, mashed potatoes, and corn.

Sam went after the grilled chicken first. He removed the skin and began to cut the actual chicken into little pieces. There were over a dozen little chicken pieces before John spoke up.

"You're not leaving the table until you've cleaned your plate, Sam."

"Dad, please don't start this-" Dean tried.

"Don't you dare cover for him, Dean," John interrupted. "I haven't given him any more than the doctors did in the hospital."

"Dad, this is a lot more," Sam argued.

"I can call your doctor right now," John threatened.

"Sam…" Dean trailed off. "Please, try."

Sam hesitated. Dean was begging him to eat something. He knew with their father's military background, he would fall asleep at the table before he was allowed to leave, only to be shipped back to the hospital.

"Okay, Dean," Sam said with one of those fake smiles. Dean hated those smiles. Sam grabbed his fork, scooping up all the little pieces of chicken. With a bit of hesitation, he began to eat the food chewing it for the longest moment before swallowing.

* * *

As soon as Sam's plate was cleaned, he ran up the stairs as quickly as possible. First, he ran to his room. He tried to lock the door, momentarily forgetting that he now possessed no lock.

"Oh my god…" Sam whispered to himself. He paced around his bedroom, running his hands through the curly mess that was his hair. He began to hyperventilate as he thought about the calories he had just consumed.

Sam opened his bedroom door. He could still hear dishes being gathered, which meant that Dean was still downstairs, and his dad was either in his bedroom, watching TV, or doing the dishes with Dean as a tag team – which they did whenever Sam wasn't there to be a part of the team.

With haste, the youngest Winchester walking into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Grabbing his toothbrush, he dropped to his knees at the toilet. This wasn't something he had wanted to do. Sure, Sam had done it before. The last few days before he was taken to the hospital, he had purged, trying to make his brother and father believe he was normal.

There was no hesitation as Sam stuck the end of the toothbrush down his throat and began to vomit into the toilet. All of the undigested food came out with a rush, and Sam felt lighter than he had in a long time.

* * *

 **Okay, so this chapter highly resembles an episode from _'Red Band Society'_ , which I happened to be watching around the time I wrote this chapter. The story-line does not follow that show's story-line.**

 **Next Update: July 5th, 2015**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"I can't believe you're back, Sam," Ruby said as they sat outside the school cafeteria during lunch. Ruby was Sam's best friend, and they had even kissed a little. She was older, a sophomore, so Ruby wanted to just be friends, but Sam had crushed on her since 6th grade.

"Yeah, I had to convince the hospital I was better," Sam said. Ruby was the person he told all his food secrets to. Well, whenever he would need to vent, anyway. He always felt bad for venting to her, even when she said she loved to hear it.

"Well, don't worry, I won't let you go back there." Ruby smiled before noticing the paper bag Sam had huddled to his chest. "What's that?"

"Oh, it's my lunch," Sam answered. "Dean packed it for me this morning."

"Flush it."

"What?"

"I said _flush_ it," Ruby said. "It's the only way to stay thin. Don't you want to stay thin, Sam?"

"I do," Sam said. "I'll…I'll go flush it now." He stood from where they were sitting, walking back to the cafeteria. He scanned the area before taking his bag to the bathroom, where he promptly emptied the food into the toilet, broken in little pieces, and flushed it. Disposing of the bag in the bathroom, he walked back through the cafeteria and sat with Ruby.

"Is it done?" Ruby asked.

"It's done," Sam answered. Before they could start talking again, Dean had popped up. He wasn't quite graduated from high-school just yet because he had just turned eighteen, so was still finishing his senior year.

"Hey, Sam, come with me and sit at my table," Dean said. He had always hated Ruby, and always knew she was a trigger for Sam's eating disorder.

"Don't you have friends there?" Sam asked.

"If they have a problem with you sitting with us, they're not very good friends, huh?" Dean smirked as Sam walked to him.

Dean guided Sam to the table he shared with his friends in the cafeteria. The freshman and the seniors always had the same lunch hour, while the sophmores and the juniors shared their lunch hour. Dean was grateful for this; this way he could keep an eye on his little brother.

"You eat your lunch already?" Dean asked just before they sat down at the table.

"I was really hungry," Sam answered after they were seated.

"Who's this?" Charlie – Dean's redheaded nerd friend – asked.

"Charlie, Sam, Sam, Charlie," Dean introduced. "She's totally into good movies, Sammy."

"Hey," Sam said quietly.

"Hey," Charlie said back with a smile. She was wearing one of those t-shirts that had a movie print Sam vaguely recognized from Dean's movie collection. They must be a match made in heaven.

"Jo, you know Sammy, and this is Cas," Dean said. "Cas, this is my little brother, Sammy."

Sam had heard about Charlie before, and he practically grew up with Jo, who somehow worked her way into getting a senior lunch hour even when she was only a sophomore. Cas was a new guy, though.

"Hello, Sammy," Cas said.

"It's just Sam," Sam said quickly. Better to correct people quicker. "Dean's the only person who calls me 'Sammy'."

"I apologize," Cas said. This guy was an odd one. "I have to go," the brunette said, standing from the table and walking away awkwardly.

"He's weird…" Sam trailed off.

"You'll learn to love him," Dean responded with a smirk.

"How are you doing on your first day back at school?" Jo asked. Her mom, Ellen, was a longtime friend of their dad's, so they grew up together. Of course, Ellen was the first person John had told when he was trying to cope with Sam being hospitalized. Ellen had waited until she knew everything to tell her daughter, and even then she had doubts of her daughter's maturity to the situation. Finally, Ellen asked Dean and John if she could tell Jo, and she did. Jo didn't take it as hard as Ellen had thought she would.

"It's weird…" Sam trailed off.

"What were you in for?" Charlie asked casually. Dean had mentioned his little brother in the hospital before, and she just assumed he must have been in surgery, though a brief thought passed her that he wouldn't have been gone too long for a simple surgery. Dean would have introduced them sooner if he had been there sooner, and she had been to his house a few times with one bedroom door that was blocked from view, just across Dean's room.

"I, uh…" Sam trailed off, looking to Dean for a reassurance that it was okay to tell people.

"You can tell her if you want, Sammy," Dean said. "You can trust Charlie."

"Oh man, is it that bad?" Charlie asked. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No, it's alright," Sam said. "I have…anorexia.."

"Oh…" the redhead trailed off at the confession. She knew something was serious from the hesitance of the Winchesters, but this? This was big. "Sorry."

"Not your fault." Sam shrugged.

"Speaking of which, did you already finish the lunch I packed for you?" Dean asked. He already had a feeling that Ruby was the trigger of his brother's condition, and if she had talked him into getting rid of his lunch? Dean would be furious.

"Yeah, I was starving," Sam fibbed. "Guess breakfast wasn't quite enough for me."

"I'll make you something bigger tomorrow then," Dean said.

 _Dammit_ , Sam thought to himself. _Way to get yourself caught._

"Hey, Dean, we still on for studying at my house after school?" Jo asked, changing the subject to make the youngest Winchester feel better. Sam flashed her a grateful smile. "You can come over too, Sam."

"Sure," Dean answered with a smirk. "Sammy _loves_ to study."

"Believe me, I know." Jo smiled. "You remember the time he tried to do your homework when you were in third grade? He was so upset when your dad told him not to mess with it."

"Yeah he was." Dean laughed.

"I don't remember that," Sam said.

"You were only four," Dean told him. "So you were pretty little. Oh, remember the time Rumsfeld ate Sam's birthday cake?" Rumsfeld was the dog of their uncle Bobby's. They always went over to his place in South Dakota for the summer, Jo included. Bobby wasn't their real uncle, but he was just as good.

"Yeah, he was so upset that he cried." Jo laughed. "There were even paw prints in the cake!"

"Yeah, I remember that." Together the two reminisced, leaving Charlie and Sam to speak amongst themselves.

"So how long were you in the hospital for?" Charlie asked. She hated to bring it back up, but it was really all she knew about the youngest Winchester. Dean barely spoke about him since they met, and she just assumed he went to the middle school down the road.

"About two months," Sam answered. "I got out early."

"Did you fall behind in classes because of it?" Charlie asked, grateful at being able to change the subject with this.

"I had a private tutor," Sam said. "But now I'm a little ahead of classes, so the counselor was talking about AP classes."

"Don't do it," Charlie warned. "They're a lot harder than they need to be."

"Have you been in AP classes?" Sam asked.

"No, but Clarence has," Charlie said.

"Who's Clarence?"

"Oh, sorry, that's what this girl Meg calls Castiel," Charlie answered. "That and 'unicorn'. I never understood it. I think they're a thing."

"Wait, Meg Masters?" Sam asked.

"Yeah! You know her?"

"Um, I was friends with her little sister…" Sam trailed off. Charlie looked down at her lap.

Everyone knew that after Meg Masters gained the reputation as the 'bad girl', her little sister committed suicide. There was an assembly at the school for it, and a lot of students showed up to her funeral.

"Sorry about that…" Charlie trailed off.

"It's alright," Sam said. The bell signaling that lunch was over began to ring. "See you later, Dean."

"See ya," Dean said. "Make sure to get some water before you head to class. I don't want you to dehydrate."

"Yessir," Sam slurred.

"I'll see you at my place if you're coming with Dean, Sam," Jo said. Sam waved and ran off to his next class.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"You doin' okay, kiddo?" Dean checked from across the room. Jo had excused herself to the restroom while they were at her house studying. Well, Dean and Jo were studying for their class and Sam was just finishing up on his homework. It was fairly easy because he remembered doing an assignment similar to the one he had been assigned at the hospital.

"Of course I am," Sam said, more as a force of habit than the actual truth. He felt like shit. His stomach was twisting in knots from not eating the lunch he was now accustomed to eating, and he felt dizzy. "Why do you ask?"

"You look a little pasty," Dean said. "I'll go find you some juice." Dean walked out of the room. After growing up together, the Harvelle house was practically their house. Jo raided their fridge and they – well, Dean – raided hers. Jo's mom, Ellen, worked during the day at the bar they owned, so she hadn't returned home yet. Sam was grateful. He hadn't seen her since before he was sent to the hospital.

Jo returned, looking in her room to see one less Winchester than usual. "Where's Dean?" she asked.

"He went to get me juice," Sam answered. "He said I looked 'pasty'."

Jo laughed. "Yeah, he's the worrying older brother." She then sat down in front of Sam's spot on the floor. "Hey, Sam…When you asked me for dieting tips a while back…was that the start of it..? How did I miss it?"

Sam bit his lip. His father had asked him the same question when he first came to visit in the hospital. Dean hadn't asked it. He knew he had missed it. Dean punished himself, but everyone else just asked him how they had missed a huge problem like anorexia.

"It started a while ago…" Sam trailed off. "When I asked for dieting tips…I think that was when I was eating 500 calories a day…"

"It started slow?" Jo asked.

"I didn't just stop eating one day," Sam said. "I worked through it little by little. It hurt less that way…But I thought I deserved to hurt anyway…I thought I didn't deserve to eat."

Dean walked in, interrupting their conversation.

"I grabbed you some juice, Sammy," Dean said. He squatted beside the two other teenagers and handed Sam the juice.

Sam hesitated.

"Sammy?" Dean asked. Sam continued to prolong him taking the bottle of juice. Dean sighed. "Sam, you need to drink something that'll give you energy."

"How many calories are in it?" Sam asked quietly. Dean sighed again.

"Please, Sammy, you need the sugar. The calories don't matter, trust me."

"Please just tell me how many calories are in it."

"180."

"…Okay…"Sam trailed off. He mentally calculated how many calories that would make him have for the day and took the bottle of juice with no more hesitation. He sipped the juice quietly.

"Let's get back to business," Dean said, bringing the studying back in to play.

* * *

Dean walked into the bathroom that Sam had left to use after the experience of studying. It was still hard on the younger brother to be around people and Dean understood that. Things weren't getting any easier in the Winchester household either.

John was working more ever since Sam returned home, and while Dean understood it, he didn't think Sam did.

Sam had always been the type of person to fight now and ask questions later, and that had been John's policy too. Now, it was up to Dean to fix the damage that Sam's disease and John's stubbornness had done.

Dean hated being the middle man, yet he always seemed to end up in that spot. It was even like this when Mary was alive; Dean always being in the middle and stopping all the fights. It was a lot harder when he was three as opposed to now. Now that he was older, it was up to him to stop the fighting with Sam and John. Father and Son. They would always be the biggest fighters Dean would ever deal with.

Dean sighed. Preventing John and Sam from fighting sucked. Someone always ended up pissed off and pouting. Usually it was Sam. While Dean always seemed to side with the youngest sibling in private, Dean liked to be on his father's good side. It was the easiest way to stay out of a spanking.

"Sammy?" Dean asked against the bathroom door. He knew Sam was feeling pretty shitty ever since he had drunk that juice. 180 calories was a lot for a recovering anorexic boy. Especially someone Sam's size who had used to require so little calories to keep going. Now he was on the end of getting way more than he needed. At least, that's the way Sam himself saw it. Dean saw it as his brother recovering. Sam didn't think this way.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked.

"Go away," Sam's little voice sounded even smaller on the other side of the door. Dean felt slightly hurt that his brother wasn't seeking comfort from him. On the other hand, he understood completely. Sam wasn't the same as before. This newer Sam was older and more secretive. Dean had caught a glimpse of the old Sam when they were back at the house, but this wasn't Sam.

"Sammy, you need to talk to me," Dean said. He didn't want the boy to do something he would regret. He really didn't want him to do anything like vomiting the bit of sustenance he had had during the day. Because Dean wasn't an idiot, and he knew that Sam had skipped out on his lunch from earlier. Dean also knew it probably had something to do with Ruby. What a bitch.

"I don't want to talk," Sam whimpered out. Yep, that definitely meant they were in the territory of needing big brother time. The whimper was all Dean needed to let him know that he needed to get Sammy home in his own house, away from anyone else around. This included even a good friend like Jo.

"Come on out," Dean coaxed. "We're going home anyway. Study time's over."

"You don't want to finish your homework here?" Sam asked.

Nah, I got this totally nerd brother who needs me more," Dean responded. Sam let out a small laugh and Dean knew he had done something right. The doorknob jiggled as Sam walked out of the bathroom.

Dean could tell from the red puffy hazel eyes avoiding his gaze that Sam had been crying. It was most likely due to the juice he had consumed. The kid was upset so easily at his foods and drinks ever since he had been released from the hospital. Dean couldn't blame him. Poor kid. "So, ready to go home and watch your favorite movie?" Dean asked. Sam laughed once again and nodded.

"My favorite movie?" Sam asked. " _Whatever_ I want?"

"Of course," Dean answered. "What kind of heartless bastard do you think I am? I'm not gonna lie to my favorite kid," the older brother said.

"You're right," Sam said.

"Do you think I would ever lie to you?" Dean asked. Sam shook his head.

"Nope, you never have and never will," the brunette said. "Right?" he looked up to the taller brother for confirmation.

"Right," Dean confirmed. They made their way home and Sam was quick to pick out what movie he wanted to watch. Dean wanted to roll his eyes at the kid's selection of Forrest Gump. "Really?" he asked.

"It's a good movie," Sam defended. "Besides, you said I could watch whatever movie I wanted, and I want to watch this one."

"Okay, okay," Dean said. "You put it on and I'm gonna go find us some movie snacks." He said the movie snack bit quieter than the rest as he didn't want to startle the teen. Of course, the youngest Winchester would be just as startled when Dean walked in carrying his usual cart of junk food, but Dean figured that as long as he didn't actively try to force Sam to eat the way John did, the kid wouldn't have a panic attack. He would just place the food in front of him and see if he ate.

Yep, that was a much better approach than the John Winchester form of parenting. Well, in Dean's opinion it was.

Dean walked back to the living room carting a bunch of junk food in his arms. It ranged from gummy bears to marshmallows. Sam would _not_ be impressed.

"Really, Dean?" Sam whined slightly as he asked this when Dean walked into the room with his arms full of diabetes.

"Relax, squirt, I'm not gonna make you eat it or anything," Dean said as he sat down with his junk. "I'm not dad."

"You sure? Because I swear, you worship the ground that man walks on," Sam said.

"Haha, very funny." Dean rolled his eyes and pressed the play button on the TV. They were going to watch this sad movie and they were going to do it with junk in their arms.

Well, Dean was, anyway.

Sammy was content to sit beside his brother and eye the bowl of marshmallows occasionally. Marshmallows had been Sam's favorite snack when he was little and he was all about smores.

Unfortunately when Sam's disease had progressed, he refused to touch the squares of sugar. It was fine with Dean t first. Until he realized how severe this was, anyway.

When Sam began to get worse, memories of their mother that Dean never wanted flooded back through his mind. Memories of her making him food and refusing to eat any of it herself, or little things.

She used to weigh herself in front of Dean, and he remembered the number on the scale lowering. He just thought this was something that girls did. This wasn't anything he knew about, and it wasn't like his dad ever asked about it. Mary never told him to keep this a secret or anything, so Dean thought it was completely normal.

"You want some?" Dean had asked sometime during the movie. Sam had just shaken his head quickly; something he did during childhood – early childhood, anyway – whenever he was lying about something that John asked him about.

Sam never lied to Dean before. This was a new development that the new Sammy had gained. Dean worried about this. He didn't want his relationship with Sam to change. He would definitely be looking into some solutions.

Sam had fallen asleep during the movie, and Dean wondered if this was due to weakness. He also wondered if he should awaken Sam for dinner, but thought against it.

Sam would eat plenty at breakfast - Dean would make sure of that.

John returned home when Dean had finished making their dinner. It was chicken curry and John had just taken some and shoveled it into his mouth. He was calm until he realized that Sam wasn't joining them for dinner.

"What about your brother?" the father asked.

"He was really tired," Dean answered. "He's going to keep sleeping for a while."

"He needs to eat, Dean," John said. "You can't coddle him like this."

"Why not?" Dean asked. "Besides, I'm barely coddling him. I'm just making sure that he gets a good nights rest. If you were here more often and paid more attention, you would know that he hasn't been sleeping well very often as of late."

"How would you know this?" John asked. "He's only been here for one night - this is literally his second night home."

"I know this because he told me the last time I visited him at the hospital," Dean said. "You would have known too if you visited him at the hospital."

"I was busy trying to work to pay for his goddamn hospital bills," John retorted. "Maybe if you had a job too we could have afforded it better."

"It's not my job to support for this family, Dad," Dean said. "That's your job and you know it."

"I'm just saying you could have made it easier on this family."

"And I'm just saying you could have sacrificed the time from work to see him." With that, Dean pushed away his food, walked to the couch where he lifted Sammy and carried him to his bedroom.

Dean walked to Sam's room, placing him in his bed and making sure that the kid was comfortable under his sheets. When Dean was on his way out, he noticed a smell coming from somewhere in the room. It was a smell he hadn't been familiar with and probably would have noticed better if he had actually walked into Sam's room while he was gone. Sure, John came around to dust the occasional soccer trophy, but that was it.

Dean made sure Sam was under the sheets before he went investigating. It didn't take long for him to find the moldy sandwich that had been hidden in his dresser drawer. Dean sighed before disposing of the item and walked out of the room. He had some of his own rest to get from the hectic day.

The next day, Dean was encountered with a decision. He wanted to help Sam get better, he really did, but he just didn't know how to make that happen. Obviously the therapy at the hospital hadn't done him much good, otherwise he would have been somewhat better.

As far as Dean could see, Sam was only getting worse.

"You know," Charlie began when they were eating lunch together - Sam was nowhere in sight and Dean had a horrible feeling that he was with Ruby once again. "When my cousin was having problems with depression, his doctor suggested family therapy and it worked well for him."

"Cas?" Charlie nodded. "How well?" Dean asked. He would literally do anything for Sam if it meant he would get better. He would carve out his own liver and hand deliver it to a faith healer if he could guarantee it would heal Sam.

"Well, he doesn't have depression anymore and it only took a few months in therapy," Charlie answered.

"Do you know how much that would cost?" Dean asked.

"You don't think you can afford it?" Jo asked.

"We can barely afford to pay back Sam's hospital bills, let alone a new therapist," Dean answered.

"I think it was covered by his insurance," Charlie said. "I could be wrong, though."

"I'll have to see if I can find someone we're covered for," Dean said. "And god, I hope we find someone. I don't know how much longer Sam's gonna make it for without getting better," Dean said.

"Well, I hope he gets better soon," Jo said. Speak of the devil, Sam walked over soon after.

"Where's your lunch, Sammy?" Dean asked, immediately noticing the lack of a lunch bag in his hands.

"I ate it already," Sam fibbed - and Dean _knew_ he was lying. "I was starving."

"Okay, Sammy," Dean said with a disappointed sigh.

He knew Sam would recognize the sigh, and hopefully it would be enough incentive to stop. He really didn't believe it would be, though. Sam had been doing this for a long time. Dean didn't think Sam cared about _anything_ anymore.

"So, what were you guys talking about?" Sam asked.

"Oh, just some homework," Dean fibbed. If Sam could lie, so could he.

"Cool," Sam said. Dean wasn't sure if Sam could tell that he was lying or not, but he didn't really care if he could. Sam had lied to Dean for years about how he felt now, so Dean would do the same back.

He'd like to see how Sam liked it for a change.

"Cas wants to do a study group," Dean mentioned to his little brother. "Do you think you'd be okay with going over with me to his place for a couple hours?"

"Well, if I don't you're just gonna get me a babysitter," Sam said with a roll of his eyes. Dean smirked. That's exactly what he was planning on doing if Sam denied him.

"Well, does that mean you want to tag along?" Dean asked.

"Sure," Sam answered. "I have some homework to catch up on anyway."

"Well, if you didn't spend the majority of the time at Jo's house in the bathroom yesterday, maybe you could have gotten it done," Dean said.

After school, when Sam still hadn't eaten anything since breakfast and nothing before that since the breakfast before, Dean and Sam had gone over to Cas' house. Sam was a bit worried because this was a friend that Dean had made when Sam was still in the hospital, and that couldn't mean good things, but he trusted that Dean wouldn't take him to anyone bad. Even when Dean had occasionally smoked pot before he was in the hospital, Dean wouldn't do it around Sam.

The only reason Sam even knew about the pot was because Dean and him never kept secrets.

Well, Dean never kept secrets.

"So, how did you meet this Cas kid?" Sam asked when they arrived to the house.

"He's in a class of mine," Dean answered. "He's really cool, you're gonna like him. Besides, he's got some things that I think you should know about anyway."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked.

"Well, he's Charlie's cousin and I thought you and him might get along. He's a really good guy," Dean explained.

"He's a little on the...naive side, though."

"Naive?" Sam asked.

"Well, he's book smart, but not really street smart," Dean answered. "And he doesn't understand a lot of pop culture references."

"What do you mean by that?" Sam continued to ask.

"You'll get it when you really get to know him." Dean walked Sam to the front door and knocked.

Cas hadn't shown up to school that day, but he had let Dean know that he wanted to study today. Luckily, Dean was able to bring Castiel's homework with him when he came over, so in the eldest Winchester's hand was a folder of papers that Sam was sure was the other's homework.

"Hello," Castiel said as he opened the door. He gestured a hand allowing them to walk in, and Dean dragged Sam along by the shoulders. The weak, bony shoulders. "Thank you for coming, Dean."

"No problem," Dean said. He held up the folder. "I got your homework and school assignments for you. Thought you might need them."

"Thank you," Cas said once again. "And you are Sammy."

"It's just Sam," Sam said. "Only Dean calls me Sammy."

"Yes, I apologize, Sam," Cas said, a light tint of red coming to his cheeks out of slight embarrassment.

"Do you have studying to do as well?" he asked after clearing his throat.

"No, I'm just here as the third wheel," Sam answered.

"He isn't allowed to be left alone," Dean said.

"You remember what I told you, right, Cas?"

"Of course," Castiel said. "I couldn't forget."

"You told him?" Sam asked.

"Well, you're the one who's open about it," Dean said.

"Besides, Cas is a good friend. He was here for me when I needed someone to vent to while you were in the hospital," Dean explained.

Sam paused. "...Did you...replace me?" he asked.

"I could never replace you, Sammy," Dean said.

"I just needed someone who I could talk to while you were in the hospital. You had people there for you. You had the staff and dad and me. I didn't have anyone here. You know how dad sucks to talk to."

"...You're right..." Sam trailed off. He couldn't help but feel betrayed, even after Dean had explained his own reasoning behind it.

"I was in therapy before, Sam," Castiel spoke up.

"You were?" Sam asked. Castiel nodded.

"I had depression and was going through issues with self-harm. My parents didn't know what else to do. They sent me to family therapy, which Dean had asked to speak with me about when we were on the phone during study hour," Cas explained.

"Family therapy?" Sam asked. "You want us, the Winchester, to go to family therapy?"

"I think it might be a good idea," Dean said. "It seemed to really help Cas and his family, so I thought it might work for us."

"I don't think so," Sam said.

"Why not give it a shot?" both Cas and Dean said simultaneously. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Because we're Winchesters! That's not what we do! We hide our feelings until we punch someone in the face!" Sam exclaimed.

"But that's not a healthy way of dealing with it, Sam," Dean said. "Look, mom was someone I couldn't help. I was too little to recognize the signs and didn't understand what was going on, but I can change that with you!"

"What if I don't want you to change it with me?" Sam asked.

"Do you want to _live_?" Dean asked. "Because what you're doing to your body, Sam? It's _killing_ you!"

"Dad wouldn't care," Sam responded.

"I would," Dean said. "I would miss you so goddamn much. Would you really want to leave me with dad? If so, I'm applying for a new baby brother."

"Dean, I really don't want to be fixed," Sam said.

"I don't want to change for anyone."

"I know you don't," Dean said. "But you have to. If you don't, you're going to die, and I won't ever get to see you make it through life. You're going to graduate and have babies and be happy, you understand?"

"Yeah, I understand..." Sam trailed off.

"Good, because I'm getting an appointment for us to go through family therapy first thing on Friday," Dean said. Sam nodded.

"Yessir."

* * *

"Really, Dean? Family therapy?" John asked. His reaction was so similar to Sam's, it almost made Dean laugh.

He would have if it wasn't such a serious situation.

"We're Winchesters, we don't do family therapy."

"Well, we're doing it now," Dean said. "Do you want Sam to get better?"

"Of course I want him to get better, what kind of question is that?" John asked.

"My question," Dean said. "Look, Sam's not getting better. Actually, he's getting worse. Since he came home from the hospital, he's had a total of three meals. It's been a couple days, dad. You do the math."

"How are we going to be able to afford this?" John asked. "We can barely afford Sam's hospital bills."

"I talked to a friend and he had to do this too,"

Dean said. "We're going to his, and that one happened to do payment plans. If we have to, I'll get a job."

"Good," John said. "Because I can't afford to support both of you and these damn bills."

"Don't talk like that," Dean said. "Sam's health and wellbeing is way more important than money."

"If we didn't have enough money, we wouldn't even be able to care for Sam's health and wellbeing," John retorted.

"Look, I'll pay for it myself if I have to. I'll get several jobs and do whatever it takes," Dean said. "I'm not giving up on _my_ kid."

"Your kid?" John scoffed. "Since when have you ever been a father to him?"

"Since you weren't there," Dean said. "When you were working unholy hours, I was at home, taking care of the kid."

"You know I had to work after your mother died," John said. "I couldn't afford to quit my job and stay home with no one supporting us."

"I had to take care of him while you were at work, anyway. You didn't even come to a single soccer game," Dean said.

"I couldn't take the time off of work to do that if I was going to even _fund_ the soccer trip!" John exclaimed.

Sam listened to the argument about money and him from the top of the stairs with tears welling in his eyes. It wasn't fair that they had to spend so much time on him. Money and time was wasted because of his disease that he practically self-induced.

Without wanting to hear any more of the argument, Sam stomped up the stairs to his bedroom and began to cry.

"Look, dad, let's stop fighting about this. We're going to therapy whether you like it or not because we need to do the best thing for Sammy right now," Dean said. "Whether you like it or not, the best thing for Sammy right now is to go to therapy so he doesn't end up six feet under like mom."

Without leaving any more room for argument, Dean walked up the stairs to his bedroom. Dean's bedroom sat right across from Sam's, and so he heard the kid crying when he first walked into the hallway. He sighed. Poor kid must have heard what they were fighting about and assumed it was his fault.

It ended up this way often.

When Sammy was little, he would often hear John fighting on the phone with their relatives.

Apparently, their mother's uncle had been wanting to see the two of them and John wouldn't allow it. Either because he was too busy to take time out to allow a visit or there was a deeper problem, neither of the boys knew for sure.

He was always so sensitive and would begin crying at the arguments that John would have. As he grew older, the arguments had shifted from John and the phone to other people who were physically there. Their father just had the kind of effect on people that made them want to literally fill his asshole with a bullet.

Dean often found himself comforting the boy through his tears, thumbing away the tears from small chubby cheeks while he whimpered and whined. That just became Dean's job over the years.

Dean asked himself if he should go into Sam's room - ask what was wrong. For a minute, he stopped himself. Would Sam even want his comfort after all these years?

Would he accept it?

Going against the words of his conscience, Dean knocked softly on Sam's bedroom door.

"What?" Sam asked, his voice not doing anything to mask the tears or snot the boy was undoubtedly dealing with.

"It's me," Dean said. "Why are you crying, Sammy?" he asked.

"'M not cryin'," Sam whimpered.

"Uh huh, sure," Dean responded with a sigh.

"'M such a burden on you and dad," Sam finally admitted.

"Who told you that?" Dean asked.

"No one had to, I just know," Sam said.

"You're not a burden on us. We love you," Dean said.

"But what about the bills you have to pay because of me?"

"Those are just bills and they suck," Dean said. "We love you more than those stupid bills."

"But I'm the reason for the bills," Sam responded.

"That's because we were trying to get you better," Dean reasoned. "You're the person we're trying to help by making those bills."

"But...if you just stopped trying, you wouldn't have to worry about the bills," Sam said.

"You let me and dad worry about those pesky things," Dean said. "Just enjoy the ride and we'll help you through this stupid disease. We won't let it take over your life."

"...Thanks, Dean..."

"No problem, kid."

* * *

After that little incident with Sam and Dean and John, Sam had grown to understand that his family really wanted him to get better.

John and Dean were paying for these bills that they couldn't afford so that he could be better and so that he could be a part of their family. They were willing to sacrifice so much of their time and money just for him. They really did love him and they really did want him to get better.

"Okay, Sammy," John said as he stood in the kitchen, looking toward Sam, who was sitting at the dining table. "What do you want to eat?"

Sam shrugged. "What can you make?" Because John never cooked for Sam. Not really. Dean always cooked for Sam.

"I can make eggs, bacon, toast, ham, pancakes, waffles," John began. "…I can pretty much make whatever you want."

"What are you willing to make?" Sam asked.

"Whatever you're craving, Sammy," John answered.

Sam shrugged once again. "Eggs?"

"That's a start," John said, preparing the stove for the food he was going to make. "I'm going to make some pancakes too. You want some?"

"Sure," Sam said. "Is Dean going to eat breakfast too?"

"When does your brother ever pass up a good meal?" John smirked.

"Right," Sam said. John finished cooking and placed some of the food on a plate for Sam and some on a separate plate for Dean. He was forgoing breakfast today due to a nervous stomach. He wasn't enjoying the idea of having to go to the family therapy. This wasn't going to be fun.

"Here you go, son," John said, placing the plate on the table in front of the boy.

"Thanks, dad," Sam said, voice full of gratefulness and appreciation, but his actions showed differently. He picked at his food with his fork and bit his lip while he did it.

John smiled a little, placing a hand on Sam's back and rubbing gently. He guessed this therapy _could_ be good for Sammy.

"Hey, dad," Dean said as he walked down the stairs wearing only a t-shirt and boxers. This was a common sight in the Winchester household, as they were all men and they didn't care about something like clothes. Sure, John always required at least boxers, but that was about it.

Until Sam's disease had worsened, he would do this too. Now, though, he just liked to remain covered in the baggiest clothing he could find.

"Morning, son," John greeted. "Got some breakfast here for you on the table," he said, placing the plate of food beside his youngest.

"Thanks, dad," Dean said, sitting beside Sam and beginning to eat. "What are you gonna eat, dad?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm not eating this morning," John said. Dean narrowed his eyes.

"Dad, set a good example," he said, trying to stay quiet so he wouldn't upset Sam.

John sighed. "All right, all right," he said, moving to make himself some of his own pancakes and eggs. He also made some bacon and put it on Dean's nearly empty plate and Sam's nearly full plate.

"Thanks, dad," Dean said. He looked over to Sam to see that he was still not eating. "Hey, Sammy…" he trailed off.

"Hey," Sam said, continuing to pick at his food, but now taking his bacon and cutting them into small pieces.

"You wanna have something else to eat?" Dean asked.

"No, I like this," Sam said. "It's good."

"Then why not take a bite?" Dean suggested. Sam paused, continuing to pick at his food.

"I'm just not feeling it this morning, I guess," Sam answered.

"Well, you don't have to eat it if you don't want to," Dean said.

"He doesn't?" John asked.

"No," Dean said, looking to John. "He's still sensitive. We don't need to push him."

"Thanks, Dean," Sam said with a small smile.

"No problem, kiddo," Dean said. "Now, go upstairs and get ready for therapy."

"Okay," Sam said. He walked up the stairs and into his bedroom. When he got to his room, he began to dress, making sure to stop by the bathroom and look at himself in the mirror. His ribs were on full display. He wasn't going to be gaining enough weight to cover them up just yet. He didn't want them to be gone. He loved the feeling of them with his bones while he ran his fingers over them.

"Are you sure he's going to be okay?" Dean asked while John was putting the dishes away from breakfast.

"How am I supposed to know?" John sighed. "You're the one who's supposed to be a Sammy-expert."

"Well, I can't be right 100 percent of the time," Dean said.

"You're going to have to be," John responded. "Otherwise, we'll lose our boy."

Dean sighed, not unlike how John had done moments before. "I know."

Dean began to dress when Sam was finishing, and John had left Dean with the rest of the dishes so that he could dress. John and Sam were done around the same time as Sam was a painfully slow dresser and John was usually pretty fast with his clothing.

Sam and John were left sitting in the living room, completely dressed and ready to go while Dean was getting himself ready.

"So…" John trailed off. "Are you still into superheros?" he asked. Sam stared at him for a long moment.

"I'm fourteen now, dad," he answered.

"Of course…" John trailed off once again. How was the kid completely different than how Dean was at his age? Right…Dean was the older brother of a ten-year old when he was fourteen, so of course he still pretended to be actively interested in superheros. Sam was into them when Dean was growing out of them.

"Hey, Sammy?" John asked. He didn't think Dean was going to approve of his next question. Hell, he didn't think the _doctor_ was going to approve of his next question, but he had to ask it in an attempt to get his son back.

"Yeah?" Sam asked in response.

"Did you want to go back into sports?" John asked. "I mean, you used to love soccer, and I'm sure the school would love to have you back on the team."

Sam hesitated. He thought all chances of him going back into soccer were lost when his disease had progressed so far that he was actually hospitalized. He smiled at his father.

"Yeah, dad, I want to go back into soccer," Sam answered. "When do you think the doctor will let me go back?"

"I figured if you thought you were healthy enough, we could get you back there as soon as possible," John answered. Sam nodded.

"I'd like that."

"It's a deal, then," John said. "And I bet we'll have an easier time convincing Dean that you can handle this if you eat your lunch _and_ dinner tonight."

Now Sam was torn. Between the thoughts of being on the team and out in the active world again and eating his food, he was stuck.

If Sam had to eat in order to get back on the team, he would eat. He was prepared to do it anyway if he had to, and planned on purging whatever he ate in the toilet. After all, he had a weight goal to reach and a figure to maintain. He would do whatever Ruby told him. Ruby was his best friend, and she wouldn't lead him astray.

"Sure, dad, whatever you say," Sam said. He figured that was a pretty generic way to answer him. He wasn't telling him he would eat the food – he wasn't telling him he wouldn't eat the food. All was right in Winchester land.

"If you eat everything on your plate today – besides breakfast, because I know that was hard for you – then I'll talk to Dean about signing you back up for the soccer team," John said. "But remember, one more slip-up where you end up in the hospital, and you can say goodbye to your active life."

"Daaaaad," Sam all but whined. He loved being active. He loved sports. Dean had been that way once. He was a wrestler when he was a sophomore, but quit pretty quickly. Sam wondered if he regretted it and he wondered why Dean ever quite. He guessed there were just some things he would never learn.

"Okay, guys, ready to go?" Dean asked as he walked down the stairs. Sam looked up to him and nodded with an innocent smile on his face.

Daddy didn't raise no fool; Dean knew Sam was up to something with that face. But he wasn't going to address it just yet. Not when he had other things to worry about, like whether or not he was able to get Sam the help he needed with therapy or not.

They arrived at the office pretty quickly, happy to learn that the office wasn't too far from their house. In fact, Dean was really happy to learn that they could walk to the office in just a few minutes, and didn't even need a car.

They would probably continue to use the car, because their family did value the importance of their precious impala most in the world. If they could go without anything, it would definitely not be their 67' Chevy Impala.

They walked into the office and quickly signed themselves in on the paper on the receptionist desk. The woman had said, "Someone will be right with you," so they were expecting a doctor to call them in any minute. Hopefully this would be the right fit for Sammy.

"Winchester?" a doctor called. He was a male – perfect for their family. Now, it wasn't like the Winchester man devalued women, they just worked better with men. It was like wanting your gyno doctor to be a woman. It was just embarrassing if it wasn't.

"Hello," John greeted when he walked in, Dean in front of him, and Dena holding onto Sammy's shoulders to make sure he didn't run away or anything. "I'm John Winchester and these are my boys, Dean and Sammy."

"Nice to meet you," the doctor said. "You must be Sammy," the man greeted, looking down toward Sam. Of course, Dean had called and informed the receptionist of the situation so they could find the perfect therapist for their situation. Obviously, Sam being the skinniest and smallest one, he was easy to spot.

"It's just Sam," Sam said. "Only my dad and Dean call me Sammy."

"Of course, sorry," the doctor apologized. "I'm Dr. Bates, and I' going to be seeing your family for now. Hopefully once we figure out your situation a little more and understand it better, we can find a doctor more fit to your needs, but until then, you're just going to have to deal with me. Sorry." The man chuckled at what he thought was so funny, but Sam continued to stay quiet after his small bit of conversing. Dr. Bates motioned to the sofa and chairs in the room. "Please, sit anywhere you'd like," he said.

Sam was quick to take a seat on the sofa, and Dean sat beside him. _Of course the boys would want to sit beside each other_ , John thought to himself.

Sam was quietly, but obviously, latching onto Dean for comfort while they all took their seats. John wanted to inform the doctor of the bond the two brothers had, but learned he didn't have to. Apparently Dean had already taken care of everything he needed to, even having the psychiatric hospital sending over transcripts of their observations and diagnosis records.

"So, Sam, your family here tells me you've been diagnosed with anorexia," Dr. Bates started. "Is that rough?"

"Why would it be rough?" Sam asked.

"Because you're a boy with anorexia," Dr. Bates said. "That's pretty rare; usually it's the girls with this disease."

"Hey, doc, we're not gonna sit here the whole time and tell my brother that he's not normal for having a disease, are we?" Dean asked. "Because I don't give a rats ass if this disease is more common in girls, it _happens_ to boys. I researched it," Dean explained.

"You did?" Sam asked. "Why?"

"Because I wanted to know how to help you, of course," Dean said.

"I thought you knew about how to deal with it because of mom," Sam said.

"Well, not really. I was little and we didn't even know about mom until after she died. Honestly, we only theorize about her death," Dean explained.

"So, your mother died from this disease?" Dr. Bates asked. "This is because of a genetic disorder?"

"Well, the disorder is genetic, but our mother had it, yes," Dean said. "But just because our mom had it isn't the only reason Sam has it. Obviously I'm fine because of it."

"Well, have you experienced any sort of disordered eating in the past?" Dr. Bates asked.

"No," Dean answered. "I never have and never will."

"Well, it could have skipped you, or you could have the complete potential to become anorexic," Dr Bates explained.

"What do you mean by potential?" John asked.

"Well, usually the DSM identifies the potential to become anorexic as being a perfectionist. It usually starts with someone trying to be perfect and taking things a little too far," Dr. Bates explained. "I can give you a pamphlet on it if you'd like."

"We don't need a pamphlet," Dean said. "I already know how Sam's anorexia developed."

"You do?" John and Sam asked simultaneously.

"It was Ruby, right?" Dean asked. "You and Ruby were good friends and you let her stupid weight thing get to you."

Sam paused. "…Not exactly."

"What do you mean by that?" John and Dean asked at the same time this time.

"Well…Ruby and I were good friends… _are_ good friends...but she wasn't the entire influence of my weight."

"Why don't you tell us how your weight problem started then, Sam?" Dr. Bates suggested.

"…Ruby and I were kind of boyfriend and girlfriend for a little while…But because she's older than me, and more popular, she really didn't want anyone to know about it. So we kept it a secret," Sam began.

"Go on," Dr. Bates encouraged.

"Well, because we kept it a secret, she started telling me things that she knew I wouldn't tell anyone else. Because we weren't supposed to be dating or anything," Sam continued. "She told me that sometimes she would throw up her food and that most of the time she would go without eating. She told me that it would be a good idea if I could do that because if I got too fat, the soccer team wouldn't want me anymore," Sam said.

"Oh, Sam, that's ridiculous," Dean said. "The soccer team loves having you! Well…they used to. Maybe we can get you signed up after you're better."

A rush of excitement swept through Sam for an instant.

"Well, anyway, after I started reducing some food intake, she told me to go lower and lower. Eventually…" Sam trailed off.

"Eventually?" John pressed.

"Eventually I wasn't eating anything at all," Sam finished.

"Oh, Sammy…" John trailed off. How could he have failed his boy? His little boy…The last gift Mary had given him.

"I think we should take a break," Dr. Bates said as he noticed the tears running down the fourteen year old boy's face. They really needed this break to clear their heads before they could talk more. "Let's get some lunch and go back over this in half an hour.

"Sure," Sam said, quickly walking out of the room to rush to the bathroom. Dean followed quickly.

"Sammy…" Dean trailed off as he watched Sam walk into the bathroom. "I can't believe…Ruby…oh my god…" he couldn't even father his thoughts. He couldn't be disappointed or angry with Sam because he didn't even know what to say to himself. He could he not have even said anything when he knew – he fucking _knew_ \- that Ruby was such a bad influence on him?

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam said quietly in the bathroom. Dean didn't even know how to respond.

"You can't just say sorry to fix this, Sam," Dean said. "Because of this, you have a serious disease that isn't just fixed with 'sorry'. You gotta work at it. It's not gonna be easy, either. God…if I could have kept you away from her, I would have."

"I won't sit with her anymore at lunch," Sam said.

"Is that where you've been running off to when you're throwing away your lunch?" Dean asked.

"You knew?" Sam asked, eyes widening with shock.

"I'm not an idiot," Dean said. He felt a little offended that Sam thought he would fall for something like that.

"I'm really sorry, Dean," Sam said. "I wanted you to know and I really wanted the help, but I just couldn't tell you."

"Are you talking about the past few lunches or are you talking about your disease in general?" Dean asked.

Sam paused. He didn't know what to answer with. He had all these bad feelings filling him and he really just wanted a hug. He wanted Dean to tell him everything was going to be okay. He was normal. He wanted Dean to tell him that. If Dean told him, then it had to be true.

John then walked into the bathroom, saying a quick, "We're going to the cafeteria to get some lunch." There was a cafeteria in the office for the staff and visitors, which John was grateful for. He didn't want to go all the way somewhere just to come back. Sure, he could have gone back home and eaten lunch, but he didn't want to do that either.

"Okay, dad," the boys said simultaneously. Dean took Sam's hand in his own and whispered. "Hey, Sammy…look, you're going to end up all right."

"Thanks, Dean," Sam said with a small smile. They walked out of the bathroom and moved to follow their dad. They were both starving and were dying to get some food. Sam especially wanted to eat because of his chance to get back on the soccer team.

Once they reached the cafeteria, John ordered a salad for Sam and a couple of sandwiches for him and Dean. He figured the easiest way to get his youngest to eat was to get something small and light that he might actually like. If Sam really didn't like the salad, he was willing to buy anything else or even go home and make him something on the grill.

"Here you go, boys," John said as he handed the orders to his sons, sitting down at the table they had grabbed. They both quickly took their food.

"Thanks, dad," the two said simultaneously. Dean was already digging into his ham and cheese, but Sam was picking at his salad.

"Sammy…" John trailed off. He didn't want to make a big deal out of it. He really just wanted to remind Sam of how he wanted to be on the soccer team again.

"Yeah, I know," Sam said quietly. He then began to take small bites of the salad. Dean smiled a little.

"You're doing so well, Sammy," the older brother said. "So well, little brother."

"Thanks, Dean," Sam said with a smile toward Dean. He sought praise and encouragement from him, and while all the good words from John was appreciated and loved, nothing made him smile like Dean's encouragement. He strived for Dean's words.

"Let's hurry up and eat so we can get back to the therapist," John said. The two of them finished eating before Sam did. He was still working on his salad and they didn't blame him. They knew it was going to be tough for him.

Sam finally finished his salad and Dean whispered words of encouragement while John rubbed the boy on his back in comfort.

"You did so well, Sammy," Dean said gently. "Why don't we get back to the therapist's office and you can tell us how you're feeling okay?" he suggested.

Sam nodded. "Okay," he whimpered out pathetically. He felt so large and bloated from the food he had consumed and never wanted to feel this way again. Not to mention he felt incredibly guilty for something he shouldn't feel guilty over.

They walked back to the office, Dean draping an arm over Sam's shoulders as they walked. Sam wasn't sure if it was in comfort or not, and neither was John. John was worried Dean might think that Sam would run away if he had the chance.

Once they were in the office and seated back on the couch, Dean relinquished his hold on Sam. Dr. Bates was also back, sitting in the chair in front of the couch while John took his seat beside the couch.

"So, Sam, you just ate lunch," Dr. Bates said. "How do you feel?" he asked.

Sam shrugged. "Full…bloated, I guess."

"Those are bad feelings?" Dean asked. "If you're full, you know you're healthy because you're full of food."

"That's not always true, Dean," Dr. Bates said. "Now, Sam, let's not talk about food. I hear you're a fan of soccer. Do you enjoy that?"

"Yeah, it's been my favorite sport since I was little," Sam said. "I was lucky dad even allowed me to play it."

"Well, it's dangerous, and I didn't want him to hurt himself," John defended. "Honestly, I thought he was going to end up coming home with bloody noses. I needed to protect my boys by keeping them from certain things; like any father would."

"Was your father like this, John?" Dr. Bates asked.

"Well, no, my father wasn't a part of my life," John answered. "When I was young, he left my family."

"Then do you think that your overprotectiveness of the boys stems from your father not being there to protect you?" Dr. Bates continued to question. John was stuck. Was this because of his own feelings? Of course not! He truly loved his boys!

"No, this isn't about my personal feelings with my father, this is about me wanting to protect my boys," John said harshly. "This is about my wife dying from this damn disease that my baby boy has inherited and me wanting to prevent it from doing what it has done to my family, and it might be too late."

"Good," Dr. Bates said. "Sam, what do you think about your mother's disease?"

"I never really knew her, she died when I was a baby," Sam answered.

"Well, what do you think about the disease she had?"

"It must have been hard," Sam said. "I mean, I'm grateful that she struggled through it trying to keep me alive when she was dying inside."

"What do you mean by 'dying inside', Sam?" Dr. Bates asked.

Sam shrugged. "Well…that's about how I feel because of this…"

"Dying inside?" the therapist asked. Sam nodded. "How do we help you get through the feelings, Sam?"

"I just figured it was something I would have to live with for the rest of my life," the boy answered. "I never thought it got better, I didn't think people could 'get through' this."

"Well, people can, and we'll help you through it, but you have to tell us how to help you," Dr. Bates said.

"I don't know how you can help me," Sam said honestly.

"Well, we would need you to be supervised like you were when you were in the hospital," Dr. Bates said. "I know that doesn't sound appealing, but it's necessary in order for you to get better."

"Am I going to have to keep coming to therapy?" Sam asked.

"Probably family therapy or by yourself depending on what your family is okay with," the therapist answered.

Sam nodded silently. They would probably choose the family therapy. When Dean got his head around something, he didn't let go of it easily.

"Well, that's about all we have time for. John, Dean, it was nice meeting you. If you'd like, you can see the receptionist for an appointment with one of the on-call dietitians," the doctor explained.

"Thank you so much," Dean said. "Hopefully we'll see you soon?"

"Of course, you can also schedule next week as an appointment with the receptionist. Her name is Tessa."

"Thanks, Dr. Bates," Dean thanked once again before taking John and Sam to the receptionist for scheduling.

"All right, when is the appointment for?" Tessa – the receptionist – asked.

"Next week at this time," Dean said, hoping there would be a slot open.

"And who is the appointment for?"

"Sam Winchester," Dean answered.

"Family therapy or solo?" Tessa asked.

Sam fully expected Dean to say 'family', so when he turned to Sam and said, "That choice is yours, Sammy," the youngest brother was surprised.

"Uh…" Sam trailed off. "Solo?" he said, it sounding more like a question because he didn't want Dean to be mad that he wasn't too fond of the whole therapy with family idea.

"It's okay, Sammy, that's your choice, and I'm okay with it," Dean said, knowing how his brother was feeling. Sometimes he had Sammy radar. Well, he had when they were growing up, but when new Sam came along, his radar had practically disappeared.

Sam smiled softly, feeling a little better knowing that Dean supported his decision and just wanted to do whatever he wanted. His brother really loved him.

When they returned home, Sam was allowed to storm up to his bedroom the way he used to when he was younger. When he was young and did this, his father would become furious with him and yell at him for this. Now, though, they were all nice. They practically let him do whatever he wanted – except avoid food.

"Hey, Sammy?" Dean asked, knocking on Sam's door softly before opening it. The knock was more of a warning that he was going to come in.

"Yeah?" Sam asked, wondering what his brother would ask that was so important that he needed to interrupt something that had become known as Sam's 'quiet time'.

"I uh…" Dean trailed off. He didn't know how he was going to get this out now that Sam had admitted that he didn't like the family therapy. "I signed us up for another round of family therapy tomorrow morning."

Sam paused. "…Don't you and dad have stuff to do tomorrow?" he asked. Any way to get out of this was a friend of his.

"We…dad took a couple days off of work to be with you and I'm doing the same with school," Dean explained.

"What does 'the same with school' mean?" Sam asked.

"It means I'm gonna drop out, Sam."

"What?! You can't drop out of school, Dean!" Sam exclaimed. "You're about to graduate! There's no point!"

"Sam –" Dean started.

"He's right, Dean," John said, appearing from the hallway where he had been listening in. "You need to stay in school."

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Because if you're not going to school, who is going to watch Sam during lunch?" John asked.

"Obviously I can't do it, the kid's been throwing out his lunch the past few days at school!" Dean shouted.

"What?" John asked. "And you didn't stop him?"

"I never saw him do it," Dean said. "He was off with that Ruby girl."

"Well, I'm putting an end to her," John responded. "Sam, from now on you are not allowed to speak or see Ruby for any way. Do you have any classes with her?"

"No, she's an upperclassmen," Sam answered.

"Good." John turned and walked out of the room.

"You're not really going to drop out, are you, Dean?" Sam asked. "Please don't. I don't want you to drop out just because of me."

"Relax, I don't think dad's going to let me drop out of school," Dean said. "Besides, if I drop out, who's gonna keep an eye on you?"

"Exactly," Sam said with a smile.

The Winchesters returned to family therapy just as Dean wanted, and Sam was okay with that. Dean kept his appointment with the therapist for a solo session, so he felt he needed to keep Dean's wishes for the one therapy session with the three of them. Besides, Dean had said this would be the last family therapy session.

"You're back," Dr. Bates said. He smiled. "So, what did you want to talk about today? I hear this appointment was initiated by Dean once again?"

"It was," Dean said. "I actually had something to get off my chest and thought it would be better in a setting like this. No judgement zone, am I right?"

"Well, I don't like judging in here. What's on your mind, Dean?" Dr. Bates asked.

Dean paused. "…I remember when Sam's doctor first told us he was anorexic…"

"It was after an incident at school?" Dr. Bates asked.

Dean nodded. "Sam fainted in his gym class and dad freaked when the school contacted him. Took him to the emergency room and Sam was already underweight…"

"And that's when he was committed to the psychiatric hospital?" Dr. Bates asked. Dean nodded once again. "Well, what did you want to say about Sam's anorexia?"

"When the doctor told us about his…problem…I already knew…" Dean trailed off.

"What?" John asked.

"I had known for a long time," Dean said. "There were…signs. Things I remembered my mom doing that Sam did. He would take food to his room that I wouldn't see him eat, he would step on the scale at the doctor's office all the time."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Sam asked.

"I was embarrassed," Dean said, looking his brother in the eyes. "I was embarrassed that you hadn't come to me."

"Why?" Dr. Bates asked.

"Sam…when he was born, mom was over the moon. Everyone was. When he was first placed in my arms, my mom told me I had to be the best big brother ever, and I told myself I would be," Dean explained. "We were best friends. Sammy and I did everything together and I wasn't ever worried that he was keeping anything from me. Until I came home early from a study group with a friend of mine."

"What?" John asked once again, but Dr. Bates held a hand up.

"I walked in the house and I guess Sam didn't hear me because when I walked by his bedroom to get to mine, the door was open and he was standing in front of a full length mirror, looking at his ribs. I was staring at the ribs of my brother who had been starving himself for a long time. Too long," Dean explained. "I felt like such a fool; how could I not have noticed? In that moment, I became the worst brother in the world. I didn't even see my baby brother suffering."

Everyone was silent for a long moment until the most unlikely person decided to break the silence.

"It wasn't your fault, Dean," Sam whispered out. Dean just sighed and placed a hand on the boy's shaggy brown curls.

"I'm sorry for failing you, Sam," Dean whispered back. "I don't know if I can do that again. Honestly, I feel like I would do more good gone than I would do here."

"You didn't fail me, Dean!" Sam exclaimed, standing from his seat on the couch. "The only reason I didn't tell you I was sick was because you _were_ my best friend. I didn't want you to see me the way Ruby was telling me I looked…I didn't want you to see me the way I saw myself…"

"Oh, Sammy," Dean said, standing and taking Sam into a tight hug. He felt like he was breaking the kid's bones and moved to release him, but the kid was still gripping onto him tightly, so he allowed the hug to continue. John then stood from his own seat and took both boys into his grip.

"I love you so much, Sammy," John said gently. "And Dean, you've never been a failure. You've helped me out in raising Sammy so much, you might as well be his father."

"Dad, I really didn't do anything I wasn't supposed to," Dean argued.

"No, you did," John said. "When I was out working, you were at home taking care of him, and I know I try and make it seem like I needed to work, but I really didn't. I could have been at home with you guys more," John explained. "I think I really worked because I was trying to distract myself from losing Mary before we ever really got a chance to be a family."

"I know, dad," Dean said. "I feel the same way and that's why I want Sammy to get better. I want him to have a chance to have a family with a girl – or guy – and I want him to have the chance to be happy."

"I'm not ever going to be happy, guys," Sam said. "I'm destined to be miserable forever."

"That's not true," John said. "You are going to meet someone and you'll love them so much that you'll forget all about this disorder."

"Did mom forget about it when she met you?" Sam asked. "Obviously she didn't, because she died from it."

"I know, Sammy," John sighed. "I don't go a day in my life without kicking myself for not seeing the signs. For not doing something about it. Is that what you want to leave us with? That horrible feeling?"

Sam hesitated to answer. "…No, I don't want to leave you with that feeling…But do you really want me around with _these_ feelings?" he asked.

"What feelings?" Dean asked. "Please, just tell us what feelings so we can end them."

"The feeling of being a burden on you because I eat so much food! Or the feeling of not working hard enough and the feeling of putting pressure on you and dad to pay my hospital bills!" Sam exclaimed. "Those feelings!"

"Calm down," Dr. Bates said. "You don't need to shout, we can all hear you. We're going to help you through these feelings. When do they come along?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know, I guess whenever I eat something," he said. "Sometimes it's right after I talk to Ruby."

"And Ruby is your ex-girlfriend?" Dr. Bates asked.

"Something like that," Sam said. "She was kind of my girlfriend until she figured it was too risky to keep the relationship. She didn't want her parents thinking she was a pervert because of her dating someone who was younger than her."

"Okay, so what we need to do is block out Ruby," Dr. Bates said. "Are you comfortable with that, Sam? We won't have you do that unless you are."

"Why does he get a say in something that made him sick?" John asked.

"Because something I've learned from these disorders is that the main goal of the person is that they want control," Dr. Bates explained. "We can't take the control of Sam's life away from him or he'll get worse."

"What do you mean about control?" Dean asked, genuinely curious about this factor.

"Well, it's usually in perfectionists and they usually have a hectic life that they don't get many choices in. So, they usually think that the only thing they can control is what they eat or if they do at all," Dr. Bates explained.

"But they can't," John said.

"Exactly," Dr. Bates answered.

"Our job right now is to help Sam take control of his life in a healthier way," Dr. Bates said. "But we'll go through that further when Sam and I are having our solo sessions."

"Yeah," Dean said. He took his arm and wrapped it around Sam's bony shoulders. "I'm sorry for not trying to help you sooner, Sammy."

"It's okay, Dean," Sam responded. "I don't care about it. I just want to get better now. Now you're helping me."

"So, you're actually going to try to get better now?" Dean asked. John's eyebrows raised in anticipation as to what Sam's answer would be.

"Yes."

* * *

 **Yay, long chapter! See you next week :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

It was the first day of Sam actively trying to get better. He woke up early in the morning and read until Dean called him down for breakfast. It was bacon, eggs, and yogurt. Sam passed on the bacon and went for some toast with butter on it instead.

Butter had been the first thing Sam got rid of when he was dieting before his eating disorder had developed. He barely ate it unless someone at the hospital made him when he was there. Now was the first time he would eat it in a long time.

When Sam took that first bite, Dean's face couldn't contain the expression of happiness he felt. Sam felt good just by seeing that. Dean was truly happy because he was getting better.

After seeing the happiness in Dean's face, Sam wasn't going to let that opportunity to make his brother happy fade away again.

Soon, Sam was eating lunch without hesitation; making sure that Dean and John saw every bite. Every bite that wasn't cut up into tiny pieces like Sam had done before.

After a while, the excitement began to fade. Seeing Sam eat wasn't a huge spectacle, and Dean didn't seem as proud of his younger brother as he had been before. Eventually, John went back to work, and Dean was talking about dropping out of school again.

Sam wondered if he would stop eating again, would things go back to how they were before?

Did he really _want_ things to go back to how it was before? Not really. He noticed that his hair was becoming healthier, his eyes were brighter once again, and he was finally filling out.

His ribs didn't show at all anymore. He was even getting a bit of a belly, and while he absolutely hated it, he wouldn't talk about this to Dean or his dad.

Dr. Bates had been an okay therapist, but Sam still didn't like to talk to him about things. It didn't make him feel any more comfortable that it was a therapist and that he was supposed to talk to him about these things. Sam didn't want to talk, so he wouldn't. Dean didn't know that, though.

Every week on Friday, Dean would take him to Dr. Bates' office after school, and he would be forced to sit there for an hour. Dr. Bates patiently waited for the day Sam would speak to him, but did not talk to Dean or John about anything that went on during their visits. Sam liked it that way.

During the week, Dean decided to take a couple days off. He said he wanted to see what life would be like once he dropped out, and now that Sam was getting better, John didn't seem as opposed to the idea.

"He could get a job and that would help with the bills," John had said. "It would make it easier and we would both have more time to spend with you, Sammy."

Sam hadn't wanted to hear it.

He didn't want Dean to drop out of school. He didn't want Dean to get his GED, or whatever he planned on doing. He just wanted his brother to graduate. He only had a few weeks left, so why?

* * *

"Sammy," Dean said early in the morning. He had woken Sam up at six in the morning, which caused a grumpy Sammy. Everyone knew that while Dean was an early riser, John and Sam were both heavy sleepers who loved to spend the day in bed. "Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey."

"What?" Sam grumbled out. He tried to cover himself with his blanket only to discover Dean had pulled it away from him.

"It's your birthday, lazy bones, get up!" Dean exclaimed.

"No," Sam whined. "It's not my birthday. This is just a dream."

"You wish," Dean said, beginning to shake his brother. "Come on, dad's got cupcakes downstairs."

"He does?" Sam asked. Because it was six AM, and John Winchester did not wake until at least seven.

"Okay, not really," Dean said. "But _I_ have donuts, muffins, and cupcakes downstairs."

"Why do you wake me up so early every year on my birthday?" Sam asked as he threw his legs over the bed and climbed out.

"Because mom gave birth at six AM," Dean said.

Sam was escorted down the stairs to the kitchen table where Dean was revealed to be true to his word. The table contained donuts, muffins, cupcakes, and a variety of drinks on the table. Dean knew that Sam liked to drink water because it had zero calories, so he had a glass of water on the table, a glass of orange juice, and a glass of milk. Allowing him to choose was easier than fighting.

"Happy birthday, little brother," Dean said after Sam sat at the table. Dean had already made the newly fifteen year old a plate of sweets. Sam picked at it quietly, and was lucky that his brother turned his back to him. While Sam was trying to get better, his therapist had mentioned that observation wasn't entirely necessary during meals anymore. John had to confirm with his therapist when Sam told him this, but eventually agreed. Dean didn't relinquish the grip for a few more days, though, and when Sam had been making progress, he allowed his baby brother to have the freedom.

"Thanks, Dean," Sam said. Dean walked out of the room to get something - Sam assumed it was his present - and the teenager took the opportunity to rip the sweets off of his plate and throw them in the garbage. He made sure to cover it up with older garbage and took some of the crumbs off of his plate and smeared them around his mouth with a disgusted expression.

When Dean returned with a wrapped gift, everything seemed normal. Sam appeared to have eaten everything so quickly. Sure, he was getting better, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to get better lately. Maybe it would be easy to have everything he wanted if he stopped eating.

"Okay, Sammy, you have to promise that you're not gonna wreck my car," Dean said. Sam furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "I'm taking you to get your permit today, _and_ you get this sweet gift." He passed over the wrapped present.

Sam unwrapped the present, which was revealed to be a plate. In the middle of the plate was the eating disorder recovery symbol and around it said, _You're a kick-ass ass-kicker so kick your disorder's ass._

"Wow, this is really nice, Dean," Sam said with a smile.

"Glad you like it, kid. Now, hurry up and get dressed. Hope you studied for your learners permit test," Dean said.

"Don't I always study for everything?" Sam asked. He placed his dishes in the sink before walking back up the stairs to get dressed. Though, he was positive that the DMV didn't open until at least nine o'clock.

Sam looked at himself in the mirror. He already felt better having not eaten anything for breakfast. He was a little hungry, but he knew it would pass.

Dean washed Sam's dishes, and he did find it a little odd that the teenager had eaten so quickly when he had been having trouble forcing the food down lately. Sam thought he was being sly and that he had fooled everybody into thinking he was completely better, but he saw how the kid looked at his food. Dean saw the struggle it took for Sam to be able to eat everything on his plate, and John barely even noticed. Dean knew.

Dean grabbed himself a donut and shoved it in his face, managing to get crumbs on his mouth like he had seen Sam had. The kid was smart, he had to give him that. Dean grabbed a napkin and wiped his face before throwing it in the garbage.

The Twinkies box in there was from last week, and definitely older than the tape dispenser that was under it. Dean knew this because he had thrown away the tape dispenser before he had woken Sam. It was used to wrap his present.

Dean dipped into the trash and dug around before he found the discarded food. He knew that it was Sam's.

Dean rushed up to Sam's bedroom. This was bullshit. The kid couldn't just pull this again. They had all gone through too much trouble to make sure this kid lived and he couldn't just throw it all away!

When he reached Sam's bedroom, he saw that the kid was changing clothing. It didn't look like much had changed since the kid had started gaining weight, but he sure was staring at himself intently. When the curly brown haired boy grabbed at what little body fat he had, Dean knew he had to step inside and interrupt him.

"Sam," Dean said, causing the boy to suddenly cover himself with his clothing.

"Dean, what are you doing in here?" Sam asked. "Dr. Bates said that you shouldn't sneak up on me or watch me get dressed because it'll negatively effect my self-esteem."

"It's too late for that, isn't it?" Dean asked. "I saw your food in the trash can, Sam. Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"...No, I don't think you're an idiot, Dean," Sam said.

"We just got you back on track, Sam," Dean said. "You can't be doing this again, you need to be the strong one, remember? You're the one that keeps this family together."

"Maybe I don't want to be the one to keep this family together!" Sam suddenly outburst. "It's always on me to keep the family together, but I don't want to be! I don't want to be the one to always do this all the time!"

"Tell me what you want and I'll gladly make it happen," Dean said. "Dr. Bates and every god damn therapist I've seen say it's a control thing. That you're trying to control your surroundings. Tell me what you want to change, and I'll help you control it."

"I want to control my own eating," Sam said.

"That's not going to happen," Dean responded. "You need something else to control besides your weight and your eating. This isn't healthy, and I'm not letting you drive yourself into an early grave like I almost did last time. I love you too much to let you die."

"You and dad treat me like a two year old," Sam said. "That's not love." He put his clothes on before walking out of his bedroom.

"You can't eat by yourself anymore!" Dean called out after Sam as the teenager walked down the stairs. Of course, Dean followed him. He wasn't going to have his anorexic and weak baby brother walking alone now. "And you're eating your damn breakfast!"

"I'm not touching that high calorie crap!" Sam called back. He walked out the door and slammed it shut.

John was suddenly awake in the other room. He ran out to see Dean had ripped the door open and was searching for his brother, wondering how he could have gotten away so quickly while still so weak.

Sam was gone.

* * *

 **Okay, so this chapter wasn't as impressive as the previous one, but I really tried my best.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Ruby heard the knocks on her door so early in the morning. She was lucky her parents were on vacation, otherwise they would have been screaming at her all morning for one of her hooligans banging on the door so early. A glance at the clock revealed it to be about six thirty AM.

She groaned and rolled out of bed, adjusting her small shorts and taking a glance to look at her thigh gap in the full length mirror in her bathroom. She smiled a bit. If only Sam had stuck with her diet instead of going to the hospital. It wasn't like there was anything wrong with what they were doing.

When Ruby reached the door, she saw that it was Sam.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "I thought you were Mr. Recovery all of the sudden."

"I've got nothing to recover from," Sam said. "Can I come in?"

"Hiding out from your brother again?" Ruby smirked; Sam used to do this often in the early hours of the morning when he was forced away. Especially on his birthday when they would force cakes on him. She knew that it was today, of course.

"Duh," Sam said. He walked in when she moved away from the door, allowing him access. Sam sighed, sitting on her couch. "I need your help again. My brother found the food I was hiding."

"Oh, so you really are back in the game?" Ruby asked. Of course that's what this all was to them. It was just a contest to see who could hold out the longest, and Ruby had been in the winning when Sam went to therapy.

"I'm trying to be, but my brother and dad are up my ass," Sam answered. "Plus they keep sending me to a stupid shrink."

"You just gotta convince them you're okay," Ruby said. "My mom's sent me to a shrink before, and trust me, she got rid of that stupid idea. Once your dad and brother think you're okay, they'll stop paying as much attention to you and then you can take matters into your own hands."

"That's the problem," Sam said. "They had already stopped paying attention to me and then I screwed up. Dean went through the trash and found food I had thrown out."

"When they stop paying attention to you again, flush it down the toilet," Ruby said. "Like I used to have you do with your lunches."

"Thanks, Ruby."

"Don't mention it. Remember, though, you can't start talking to me again at school unless you want your brother to get suspicious."

"I know," Sam said. "See you during third period?"

"Not likely, I'm dropping gym."

"Why?" Sam asked. Ruby was always so insistent on exercise.

"I'm doing that little thing called, 'not getting caught'. You should try it sometime," Ruby said. "Now get out of my house and back to your stupid brother. You might want to try that reassuring thing now."

"Well...thanks, Ruby," Sam said before walking out and heading back home. They lived only a few blocks from each other, and he took the opportunity to get to running. About a block away from his house, he stopped running to allow some of his sweat to dry up and get over the thought of throwing up. He didn't need Dean worrying right now.

"Sam," Dean said when his little brother walked into the house. "Where the hell have you been?!"

"Now isn't the time to scold your brother, Dean," Dr. Bates said, and Sam suddenly realized that - holy shit, his therapist was inside of his house.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked defensively.

"We thought that he should be around when we talked about you hiding food this morning," John said. "He was nice enough to do a house call so early in the morning." Sam looked at his watch and saw that it was now nearing seven o'clock. He must have taken a lot longer than he thought he did.

"I wasn't hiding food, I just wasn't hungry," Sam fibbed.

"You're lying," Dean said.

"Calm down, everyone," Dr. Bates said. "Sam, your father has spoken to me and with him, alongside the opinion of your older brother; they believe that it's best you return to the hospital."

"The hospital?!" Sam shouted. "No! I can't leave school again!"

"You can have your tutoring in the hospital, Sam," Dr. Bates explained. "It will be better for you. The staff will be able to keep a better eye on you, and you'll feel more accepted there, I promise you."

"We accept him," Dean said. "We just don't accept his disordered behavior and we want him to at least _try_ to quit."

"It's not that easy, Dean," Sam retorted. "You just don't understand how hard it is."

"Really?" Dean asked. "I've read _all_ the books! Everything says to do what I've already been doing, which is not pushing you and giving you complete support! I don't understand why you won't tell me things, and if it's just because I don't understand anything, then you need to tell me how to understand what I'm not understanding!"

"Calm down," Dr. Bates said once again. "Sam, your father is going to pack your things and I'm going to take you to the hospital myself. Once you get settled in, your father and brother are going to come to see you and we can figure out when the best time is for you to end treatment."

"I don't want treatment," Sam said. "I just want to stay here. I want to go to school and meet Dean's friends and continue to do everything normal kids do."

"Then you're going to have to get better," Dr. Bates said. He wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders in comfort as John brought down a suitcase of Sam's personal items.

"Um..." John trailed off. "I tried to remember the rules of the hospital, but if there's anything in there that shouldn't be, just let me know and I'll be there to pick it up."

"Daddy..." Sam trailed off as well. John gripped the boy in his arms in a tight embrace. He hated doing this to his little boy, but knew if he didn't, he would only end up like his mother. "Dean..."

Dean was quick to join in on the hug. He didn't want his brother to leave thinking that his older brother hated him.

Before he knew it, Sam was being placed in the backseat of his therapist's car and being taken back to the hospital.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

"Step on the scale, please," the nurse said kindly to Sam, who did as he was asked. Those nurses were always so set on him removing his shoes, but luckily for Sam, when he asked to go to the bathroom earlier when he was with the therapist, he had shoved some magnets in the waistband of his briefs.

 _One benefit to wearing briefs instead of boxers,_ Sam thought to himself.

"98 pounds, good job, Sam," the nurse praised with a kind smile on her face. Sam knew it was just a load of bullshit. She couldn't actually love a job weighing underweight kids so much.

Sam stepped off the scale and sat back down in the seat he had been relegated to. This was where he had been for the past hour while his therapist worked out admitting him to the hospital and the nurses tried to regain the records from the previous hospital he was placed at. Sam was just glad he wouldn't be seeing any of the old nurses or therapists. He couldn't stand the disappointment in their eyes if they had seen him return.

"Alright, Sam, come with me," the nurse who was writing in his chart instructed. She walked him down a long hallway - much like the other hallways at the other clinic - and brought him to a room that had three beds in it. "This will be your new room."

"Do I have a roommate?" Sam asked. Obviously he had to have two if there were three beds.

"Actually, yes," the nurse answered. "You have one. His name is Adam Milligan, and he'll only be staying here for two more days until he returns to his family. He's come so far with treatment."

"What's he in for?" Sam knew that this was not just a clinic for eating disorders, but for teens with any mental health problems. The boys were separated from the girls, and there was an adult clinic across the street from them.

"I can't tell you that, Sam, you should know that," the nurse said. "After all, your chart says you've been hospitalized before."

"Yeah, I have been..." Sam trailed off. "Am I allowed to rest in here during the day?"

"For the time being, yes," the nurse answered. "The door will remain open, the bathroom will be locked, and I will be checking in on you ever five minutes. Adam should be here in a few minutes, he's just coming in from the day room after requesting some time off as well."

"Thanks," Sam said as she walked out of the room. He collapsed on the bed that did not contain any pillows or sheets. He knew the drill - he would get those at bedtime, though the other bed obviously had pillows and sheets because it's occupant had been here longer.

Minutes later a kid walked in with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. He must have been Adam.

Of course, Sam could tell that this kid wasn't being treated for the same thing judging by the scars that littered his arms.

"What are you in for?" the kid - Adam - asked. There was nothing physically wrong with Sam besides being slightly underweight.

"They say I have anorexia," Sam answered.

"Are you a girl or something?"

"No, boys can get it too," Sam said.

"But isn't that all just about losing weight?" Adam asked. Sam looked down at his lap. "No, no, I'm not meaning this to be mean or anything, I'm genuinely curious. I don't know anything about boys getting it and was wondering if it meant the same thing. I mean, girls just get it because they want to be skinny or whatever."

"I'm..." Sam trailed off. "I'm not good enough...for my family...if I'm not skinny enough to fit in..."

"Huh..." Adam trailed off. "That's heavy."

Sam shrugged. "I don't really know exactly why girls get it."

"I heard it's in the genes," Adam said.

Sam nodded. "My mom had it."

"How'd she get over it?"

"She died."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Sorry."

"Not your fault."

The two sat in silence for a long moment before a nurse returned to check on them.

"Adam, you get back to the day-room for group therapy, Sam, I need you in the cafeteria for a different group," the nurse said before walking out.

"What is she talking about?" Sam asked.

"This hospital really caters to people with eating disorders," Adam said. "They do a special group where everyone with an eating disorder gets together and they all talk about when it started and when they decided they wanted to get better; shit like that."

"Oh..." Sam trailed off.

"You better hurry, Nurse Evans really doesn't like it when people are late."

Sam made his way to the cafeteria with an escort of another nurse after explaining where he needed to be and why. When he was there, he saw one of the many circular tables in the cafeteria was filled with a small group of people. Girls.

"Sam, over here," Nurse Evans instructed. Sam stepped toward them and took a seat in between two girls. "Sam, this is Bela, Eve, and Hannah. Girls, this is Sam, the newest member of our group. Why don't we all show Sam how this group works? Bela, you first."

Sam noticed that Bela was a skinny girl. She had long curly brown hair and tanned skin. She didn't look like she belonged in here, she seemed perfectly fine.

"My name is Bela and I have bulimia," Bela said with a roll of her eyes. Sam immediately picked up on her English accent.

"Thank you, Bela. Eve, you next, we're going in a clockwise circle," Nurse Evans instructed.

"My name is Eve and I have purging disorder."

"My name is Hannah and I have anorexia."

"You next Sam," Nurse Evans urged.

"...My name is Sam and I have..." he trailed off. "I don't have anything wrong with me. I don't have an eating disorder, and I don't care that everyone seems to think that I do."

"Sam, you know that you have anorexia," Nurse Evans said. "You didn't eat anything for months, and that's a problem that we're trying to correct here. Admitting you have a problem is the first step."

"I don't have a problem," Sam said.

"Why don't you just listen to the girls talk and see if you have anything in common with them?" Nurse Evans suggested. She motioned for the girls to begin speaking as they usually did. "Let's talk about how you all first started. In the circle, minus Sam."

"My parents moved me across country when I turned fourteen," Bela said. "When we came here, other girls began picking on me. We didn't have such a weight issue in England; it's just not as big of a deal for a girl to be slightly overweight over there."

"What did you do about that?" the nurse asked.

"I started dieting," Bela explained. "I wanted to look like the supermodels in the American magazines, and when I would stop eating for days, I would eat everything I could in sight. After that, I would feel so guilty for not sticking to my diet that I would purge."

"Thank you, Bela. You next, Eve."

"My mother raised me believing that purging was a necessary step to being perfect," Eve said. "If I didn't do it when I was young, I wasn't good in her eyes, and it just became a way of life for me."

"My father always had control over me," Hannah said. "Over everything my siblings and I did. My older brother rebelled my cutting himself and I guess I just went too far by not eating anything. I wanted control," she explained.

"Thank you, girls," Nurse Evans said. "Sam, do you want to try again?"

"I don't have anything in common with these people," Sam said.

"What about Hannah?" Nurse Evans asked. "Hannah, what did you do when you were in the deepest part of your anorexia? When you were at the point Sam was at just a few weeks ago?"

"...I wouldn't even touch food," Hannah said. "I was afraid the calories would seep through my skin and make me fat. I found myself hiding food in my dresser drawers until they became so moldy that I would have to throw them away. I threw food in the trash and covered it up with other trash just so that I could see my ribs in the mirror."

Sam looked down at his lap, coming to a realization.

He had moldy sandwiches in his dresser drawer. He had kept the cupcakes and donuts from Dean by hiding them in the trash. He was so obsessed with seeing his ribs, and Hannah was right, he hadn't been able to touch food either before he was hospitalized for the first time.

"Oh my god..." Sam trailed off.

"Are you finally beginning to understand, Sam?" Nurse Evans asked.

Sam nodded. "I'm an anorexic."

* * *

 **I realize that Sam had admitted in previous chapters that he was anorexic, but when he had said those things, he didn't really believe it. Now, though, he understands what he is doing to himself.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

It had already been a few weeks since Sam was admitted, and they were growing closer to the estimated end date of his treatment.

"I think we might be getting somewhere with Sam," Nurse Evans said as she was speaking with John Winchester, who was on his way to see his son. "He's admitted he has a problem, and he's been eating in the cafeteria with all the others like he's supposed to."

"Do you think he'll keep it up?" John asked. "He did all this before and it came to bite us in the ass when we weren't paying attention to it." If the nurse found a problem with John's cursing, she sure didn't show it.

"I think that he'll definitely need to be monitored. Let me bring you to Dr. Bates and he'll explain into further detail of our treatment methods for Sam," Nurse Evans said. She guided the eldest Winchester to an office that belonged to Dr. Bates before leaving to attend to patients.

"Mister Winchester, please sit down," Dr. Bates said. John sat down without a second thought. "I assume you want to know how young Sam is doing before you see him."

"I want to know when I'll be able to bring him home without him trying to starve himself to death," John said.

"Well, anorexia is a very tricky disease, mister Winchester," Dr. Bates said. "You have to remember that the not eating, that's a symptom, not the disease. The disease is how he sees himself."

"How do I get him to see himself properly?" John asked.

"With plenty of therapy and encouragement," Dr. Bates answered. "Honestly, from seeing his charts and how much he's improved, I would say that you could bring him home any day now. From his past stunts, though, I would suggest that you leave him here for at least another week. That way we can monitor him further and really prepare you for what to expect when you bring him home."

"Aren't you monitoring him as far as you can get?"

"Well, we do what we can, mister Winchester," Dr. Bates said. "Sam hasn't been hiding food. He hasn't been trying to trick the staff, he's been cleaning his plate, and he's managed to gain up to 110 pounds. He is completely safe to go home at this time."

"But you want me to wait another week," John said.

"Exactly," Dr. Bates confirmed. "If you give us just one more week, we could prepare Sam for eating at home. Actually, you could even take him back home with you today for the weekend before returning him, and I think that would be really good for him to adjust."

"What do you recommend after he comes home?" John asked.

"Well, obviously he'll still need therapy. Once a week, he'll need to go out to eat at a restaurant and order something without thinking about the calories, and clean his plate. If you can get him to do that for a weekend at home, and him not try to trick you in any way to get out of eating it, then I'll think he was completely safe to go home permanently," Dr. Bates explained.

"I think that's a good idea," John said. "I'll take him home with me for the weekend and return him bright and early Monday morning before work."

"Great," Dr. Bates said. He stood, shaking John's hand before signing forms for a temporary release until Monday.

John walked to Sam's room and smiled a bit. His boy was going to be able to come home today, and he couldn't even imagine how exciting the kid was going to be when he learned this. He found the room the nurse had pointed out and saw that Sam was sitting in the middle of a bed writing in a journal.

"What's that, kiddo?" John asked, announcing his arrival. Sam looked up and let out a big grin.

"Dad!" Sam cried out, dropping the book and running to his father, gripping him in a tight embrace. Usually these special Sam hugs were reserved only for Dean, and John felt honored to be receiving one.

"Hey, Sammy," John said with a smile. He pressed his nose into the kid's curly brown hair. He loved Sam's smell as much as he loved Dean's and his wife's. "How have you been doing?"

"Really good, dad," Sam said. "Did Nurse Evans tell you I've been eating? I've been really good and participating in groups and everything. I've even been talking with the other girls that have eating disorders."

"No boys, huh?" John asked.

Sam shook his head. "Nope, but the girls are really nice. Hannah has anorexia like me, but Eve has purging disorder, which is like bulimia without the binge. Bela has bulimia, and she's from the UK, dad!"

"That's really cool, Sammy," John said with a smile. "So I talked to Dr. Bates."

"What did he say?" Sam asked.

"He said that you could come home for the weekend," John said. Just as he predicted, Sam was smiling wide.

"Just for the weekend?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I'll have to bring you home on Monday, but the weekend is all yours, kiddo," John said. "But you'll come home permanently real soon, okay?"

"Okay, dad," Sam said.

"You don't need to pack anything," John said. "We got everything you need at home, but if there's anything you want to bring home and switch out, feel free to."

"I just wanna go home for now," Sam said, still hugging onto John.

"Okay, kiddo; we'll go home."

* * *

 **I am so sorry for the short chapter; I'll try to respond to reviews soon.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

John brought Sam home and Dean was surprised. He jumped off of the couch and ran to his little brother, taking him in his arms.

"I didn't know you were coming back today," Dean said, his voice slightly watery as were his eyes. Sam just smiled and continued to hug him.

"Neither did I," Sam responded. John smirked.

John knew he had to take this dinner easily. He also knew that Sam needed to eat out at least once this weekend to see how he would take it.

"He's just home for the weekend," John informed so that Dean wouldn't get his hopes up on his brother staying. "If he does well during the weekend, then the doctor and I will talk about him coming home permanently."

"You better do good, kid," Dean said. Sam laughed.

"In order to celebrate Sam being back home for the weekend, I say we go out to eat," John announced. Sam actually didn't freeze up like he usually did whenever food was mentioned. "Sammy, where do you want to go?"

"I want to go to IHop!" Sam exclaimed quickly. It had been his favorite restaurant since he was a toddler.

John and Dean almost questioned Sam's choice on the international house of pancakes for dinner, but didn't in order to keep the peace. They were just glad the kid was excited about eating again.

They drove out to IHop and Sam ordered his usual of Mickey Mouse pancakes despite being fifteen years old and it being dinner time. John and Dean continued to say nothing negative about the situation.

"Hey, Sam, what was that notebook you were writing in when I went to your room?" John asked.

"Oh, that's my journal," Sam answered. "Dr. Bates told me to start writing in it whenever I eat something and about how I felt when I did. Then I would take it to him and he would explain to me why I felt that why and why I didn't need to."

"So it's working?" Dean asked. "The journal?"

"Yeah," Sam said with a smile. "It really helps."

"Then why did you leave it at the hospital?" John asked.

"I don't think I need it if I'm with you guys," Sam answered. "When I'm with you guys, you can be my journals. I can tell you everything I feel...right...?"

"Of course," Dean said. "No matter what time it is or how stupid you think it is, you can always talk to me about anything."

Sam smiled before turning his gaze to John hesitantly.

"Me too, Sammy. Me too," John said.

"Thanks, dad," Sam said with a smile. "I think we're gonna be okay."

"I think so too, Sammy."

Sam returned to the hospital with a good report from John. That was when Dr. Bates announced a week later that Sam was free to go home with the promise that he would continue returning to therapy.

Everyone was ready for Sam. Eventually he learned that Hannah, who was released from the hospital shortly before him, was Castiel's younger sister, and together the four of them - Cas, Dean, Hannah, and Sam - managed to form a group to hang out together. Sure, Hannah was still not returning to school, and planning on getting her GED when she was of age, but Sam still thought of her as a friend, and visited her whenever Dean would take him over to her house.

John was even more open to Sam about his mother. It had started little. Just small stories about her and eventually Dean had convinced his father to break out the photo album of the family before she died. Sam had seen few pictures of her, seeing one picture where she was holding himself as a baby and another where it was their whole family. He was delighted to see more pictures.

Sam knew what his father was talking about when he saw how thin his mother was in the photos. He knew well enough that she was wearing multiple layers of clothing and still looked thin. He wondered if that was a common sight back then before remembering that it was a common sight now.

Sam didn't go back to the hospital. He went to his therapy sessions and completed his phase of outpatient therapy. John was so proud of him that their family went to...well, IHop. Sam's favorite restaurant, after all.

While Sam was better, he still grew up a health nut. He refused to eat the greasy burgers his father and brother loved after he turned sixteen. He often mentioned something about getting sick after he ate them, and Dr. Bates had said this would happen after not eating so long. Dean and John respected that Sam didn't wish to eat foods that made him sick, and while they informed him that if he continued to eat the foods, he wouldn't get sick anymore, Sam still didn't eat them.

Sam graduated when he was nineteen and went off to Stanford University in California. Dean was worried about him, not wanting his baby brother to relapse without him being there for him, but after making Sam promise to visit often, he reluctantly allowed him to go.

Dean didn't get his GED. Sam had been so adamant about him not getting his GED, and eventually the youngest Winchester admitted to his older brother that the reason of his relapse was Dean's plans to get his GED. Sam didn't want to lose his big brother at school, afraid the bullying he had experienced in middle school before being in the same school as Dean would start up again.

So Dean graduated high school when he turned eighteen years old with his baby brother by his side. While Sam had gone off to a fancy college with a full scholarship, Dean remained in Kansas and eventually became part owner of his father's car garage. It was what he really wanted to do, anyway, always loving cars even from the early ages of being a toddler.

Ruby had eventually been hospitalized. Her parents had spoken to John after hearing about Sam's recovery from his eating disorder, and after realizing that hospitalization was the way to go, they quickly sent their daughter there. Ruby was now unhappily recovering from anorexia. Even years after being admitted and being court ordered to stay there by a judge, she still wouldn't admit that she had a problem.

John was so relieved. Sam had gotten out of the hospital and he was doing so much better. He was glad that they had caught it, and that Sam didn't end up in the same fate as his mother.

It hurt his heart to think of Mary. He hurt while wondering what she must have gone through during the hard times of her eating disorder, and how she couldn't come to him. He silently thanked her for overcoming her disorder during both of her pregnancies, giving him the greatest gifts she could - his children.

"He did it, Mary," John said with a smile as he looked down at a photograph of his young wife. "He beat this. I only wish you were here to see it."

 **The End.**

* * *

 **Okay, so I realize I could have done a lot more with this story, but I was working on it for a year and just wanted it to be finished already. Maybe I'll update it later and actually give it some more detail and more time with Sam in the hospital, as I should have done in the first place.**

 **I'm still really glad that I wrote this story, though it really didn't get to the root of Sam's problem, but it showed that he could recover, and that he did. Eating disorders are a serious condition, and if you have one or think you or a loved one may suffer from any eating disorder (there are a lot more than just Bulimia, Anorexia, and Binge; look up eating disorder lists from OSFED and check out that long list of eating disorders) please, _please,_ get help. It's not easy at all to recover without a support system. **

**Thanks for reading.**


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